


Love Endless (Bridge to Barbarity)

by wubwubnparmaham



Series: Love Endless [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ancient Rome, Betrayal, Dacian Wars, Death, French Revolution, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Loss, M/M, Mental Instability, Smut, Vampires, Violence, plus - Freeform, sometimes hand in hand lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wubwubnparmaham/pseuds/wubwubnparmaham
Summary: We all know now what happened in the 70's, but what about before? Long, long before that? Have you ever wondered what Hadrian's life was before Alexander? After Alexander but before his return as Louis?Even Alexander has pondered these things; after all, Hadrian could be quite elusive regarding his past. As anyone would.Come with me one last time as we dive into the other side of the journal entries, the other side of the world, the other side of our known timeline. To a period when Hadrian's greatest love went only by one name, to the beginnings of his familiar friendships, and the loss of his eternal light.Hadrian will experience a great many hardship in his unpredictable life, some you've only briefly heard of, but now you'll see them all—live them all alongside him. Pay witness to the rise and fall of Hadrian and his brother Auron again and again and again as the one left behind seeks to destroy the other in the greatest, most emotional battle of history—until they reach end we all know their path leads to—but that won't change shit in this present time, will it?Love Endless[Book 4/4]





	1. What's Wrong With my Brother?

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here right now, you're a TRUE fan of the Love Endless verse and I appreciate you more than I can say. Welcome back. 
> 
> I didn't even know if I could put this in the 1d fandom. It certainly won't be read by random directioners, that's for sure. This is just for you guys. Hope you enjoy this last run. I know I will, I just need you to be lenient with me again. I promise it'll be worth. 
> 
> SO YES, ya gay boy's back. With more gay shit. But with this comes a few warnings?   
> I did put underage in the warnings. This is because of Hadrian at 16. You remember what Louixander and him fought about in the Jerusalem alley? No? Accusations were made, I have here the real-time actions. Try to remember Roman boys were adults at 15 if that helps. All society is subjective constructs. Anywho, main character death is the most obvious thing on the fucking planet. We all know who dies. I WISH HE DIDN'T HAVE TO, BUT I DID THIS TO MY CHARACTERS IN THE FIRST PLACE. 
> 
> Don't expect fast uploads. I have about 5 chapters right now as of 9/12, but this isn't any kind of New Year's Resolution. It's not gonna be out that fast lol. Don't expect anything of me other than finishing this saga getting this entire volume out at some point. I used to be so fucking on top of my shit, where did that Jackson go? Aha, I'm sorry. 
> 
> I love you all, and it's really it this time. See you next time.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Hayway?” Auron asked, dropping down to sit on his heels as he peered over his brother’s shoulder into the pond he was so intensely studying. In their eight years of life, soon to be nine, Hadrian had always been the one to find the most fascination with silly things, and this was no doubt another example of that trait.

“Swimming frogs,” Hadrian answered, sniffing incessantly from his outdoor allergies and pointing to the little creatures skittering across the calm water’s surface.

“Why?” Auron giggled, teasing his twin by almost pushing him straight into the water before pulling him back further onto the pebbled shore.

“Auree!” Hadrian cried, fending off his bully of a brother and then whining when he found his water froggies had left in a hurry from all the sudden movement. “Look what you did!” he accused, angrily crossing his arms and putting on his best pouting face; a face that had never gotten him anywhere to date, but he wouldn’t ever give it up until it did.

“They’ll be back,” Auron reasoned, tucking a strand of matted hair behind his ear as he clumsily sat down on the tiny stones beneath them. “We have to go to the feast, remember?” he asked, revealing the details of his mission in that one question. Auron was constantly asked where his brother was, and because he was the only one who ever knew where to look, he always knew just where to find him. The adults depended on him for it, and this very conversation had occurred a countless number of times.

“I don’t even know why I have to go. _You’re_ gonna be Emperor, not me,” Hadrian sighed, throwing himself backward until he was sprawled out like the very water frogs he enjoyed to study, squinting his eyes from the harsh sun that burned into them.

“Because you’re my brother!” Auron said, flattening himself out on his stomach beside said twin and allowing himself just a few minutes of relaxation. “You know I can’t do anything without you,” he added, scooting closer and finding great comfort in just touching the sides of their legs together.

“You’ll have to do a lot without me,” Hadrian said, cracking one eye open to look over at his disappointed brother and then flipping over to console that expression. “I love you, Auree. You can do this,” he encouraged, smiling brightly and patting his brother on his sun-kissed back.

“I know I have to...but sometimes I wish you would be Emperor,” Auron confessed, knowing he’d be so much happier if he could just support his brother in his place and not have to worry about the whole Empire being in his hands.

Hadrian thought that over and frowned, giving a sidelong smirk at Auron until he noticed it and then attacking him with merciless tickles.

“Hayway, stop! Stop, please!” Auron begged, the both of them laughing like loons as they struggled and wrestled around in the gravel for dominance. Auron already knew it was hopeless; Hadrian was much stronger than him; so he gave up early, making a clear surrender to end the fight. “ _That’s_ why you should be Emperor. You’re so strong,” he said breathlessly, pushing himself up and holding out a hand to help Hadrian to his feet.

“But you’re the smart one,” Hadrian said, fearless to readily admit he couldn’t read or write like Auron could (he _could_ , but not with such sophistication), and he certainly didn’t understand the first thing about philosophy. “So you could plan battles better. I’ll just fight for you—”

“No!” Auron said, swinging around to block Harian who had begun to diligently walk back to the city walls. “I don’t ever want you to fight in a war under me. You’re too important. I can’t let anything happen to you ever. You can’t fight, you—”

“Auron, I’m going to be a soldier,” Hadrian persisted, in quite an unquestionable manner, taking Auron’s wrists and forcefully removing them from his shoulders. “Even if you are the Emperor, the council won’t ever let me live without seeing battle. I’m the best of the trainees, and I’m your brother. I could be a general. I'm _going_ to be a general,” he said, groaning at the teary-eyed look Auron suddenly possessed. “Please don’t cry, Auree. I’ll be so good when we grow up, you’ll never need to worry about me at all. Trust me,” he said, lacing his fingers with his brother’s and resuming their walk home.

“You better be,” Auron sniffed, trying to hide his face even if there was absolutely no point to it. He didn’t like how emotional he got, especially in front of his younger, more resilient brother, and that was a shame he simply couldn’t overcome, no matter how comfortable they were with each other.

“How are you?” Hadrian asked to change the topic, not to a much better theme, but something that fit the theme of the earlier one. “Have you been sad again?” he asked, both boys painfully aware that the thing they pointedly hadn’t been talking about probably required some attention.

“Not like that again, or you would know,” Auron sighed, letting go of Hadrian’s hand to hug his arm as they walked instead. He hated thinking about that night, and he hoped the feeling from then never returned—it had been a waking nightmare.

Hadrian was just as on edge; he’d seen his brother scream and cry like Pluto himself was tearing his limbs apart, and nothing in the world could console him for a handful of wretched days...not even him. The monster had been not of skin and bone, but inside Auron’s mind, tormenting him in a way that had seemed so permanent and inescapable at the time, but had disappeared one morning when he woke up.

Thing is, when he woke up, then it was the sadness. A deep, sorrowful sadness that one normally only sees with the death of a comrade or family member. It had been a seemingly incurable episode of woe that nearly had the power to blow flames from candles and suck everything close to its core into darkness, and Hadrian didn’t appreciate that core being his brother. It hadn’t been right.

Hadrian was a generally optimistic boy, but he’d be telling an untruth if he said he wasn’t constantly wondering if it would ever come back. Would it stay for good the next time? It couldn’t, of course, the Gods would not allow an Emperor to endure such toil, but...he just...wondered sometimes.

  


\---

  


“Auron! Hadrian! There you are,” Domitia Paulina, their mother, predictably chastised, grabbing both of their hands and hurriedly walking them down the grand hall of Palatine toward the triclinium to partake in the Emperor’s feast. The Emperor, Trajan, was a maternal cousin to their father, Publius Afer, so a lot hung from the balance of their behavior. It had to be good, or else.

“He was hard to find this time,” Auron lied, giving his brother a wink that forced Hadrian to hold back laughter.

“I very much doubt that,” Paulina grumbled, looking over her shoulder at her sons and tutting in judgment. “Would you just look at you two, you’re dirtier than a pig’s pen. Have you been out by the pond again?” she asked, knowing at the very least that the pond was one of Hadrian’s patterned hiding places. You just never knew which cycled location he would be at any given time...

“No, the southern gardens,” Auron said, attempting to keep their special pond as unsuspecting as possible. He didn’t want the grown-ups learning to go there first, or it would lose its importance to his little brother. So far, their mother had only found them there once, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Well kindly don’t venture anywhere where you’ll attract dirt when you know you have responsibilities,” Paulina sighed, turning back around and increasing her pace to the triclinium.

“Yes, Mother,” the twins said in unison, smiling to each other and trying to act serious as they were led through the heavy doors and into the loud event of the Emperor’s feast. It was the same chaos it always was. The men of Rome were laughing and cackling like fools, clinking goblets of wine together and stumbling to and fro. The spillage of meats and bread littered the floor, creating a mess the slaves would no doubt be put out to clean, but even they looked happy on the sides of the room. It was a good day.

The long table covered with platters and dishes ended with Trajan at the head, his council and closest advisors right after him, relatives to him, the most notorious military leaders, and then those luckily invited taking up the rest of the space, including scholars and even lowly but valued blacksmiths. Their father was somewhere in the middle, with two empty spots beside him saved for his sons.

“Afer,” their mother called down the table, catching many diners’ attentions but luckily their father’s was included.

“Boys!” their father called, wiping the crumbs of bread from his lips as he stood with open arms. “Come here, little Romans.”

Their mother gave them each a pat on the back and shooed them off to the table, happily retreating to the wives’ tablinum where she could sit in peace from the racket and enjoy mature conversation, especially with Plotina Pompeia, Trajan’s wife and Empress of Rome, who happened to be her closest friend. _Have fun in the jungle, my darlings._

Auron hated every second of this, and Hadrian knew that well, so after running up to the table and taking their seats, he held his hand under the table where no one would see, giving him pats and strokes as the inevitable conversations began.

“Where’ve you been, lads?” Afer asked, belching from the strength of the wine and giving a sheepish smile.

“I went out hunting for snakes,” Hadrian said, leaving his water frogs where they belonged in all his secrets so he wouldn’t be perceived as soft. He wasn’t soft. He could fight and he could fight well, he just also enjoyed taking care of and admiring the small and defenseless things in life. Can’t a warrior do both?

“That’s my boy,” Afer laughed, along with the soldiers who had overheard Hadrian’s confession. “Did you catch any?”

Hadrian shook his head. “No, Rome is safe,” he said, acting like his father’s rough pats on his back didn’t hurt at all.

“Already on missions to eradicate danger. He will make a _fine_ General, I can promise you this,” Taepius Acilius vowed, the words from such a powerful Roman official sending a blush to Afer’s cheeks.

Acilius was Hadrian’s personal mentor, who had begun meeting with him and only him three times a week to help further his studies. It was a huge privilege to receive such attention, and though Auron got the most lavish of it from even higher up officials, Acilius taking responsibility for Hadrian did not go unnoticed. The twins were treated like Gods.

“What would you know of his strength or skill?” Marcius guffawed from a few seats down the other direction, also across from their side on the table. “I know more than anyone how mighty of a force Hadrian will be in our military.”

“Such words for my son—I thank you,” Afer said gratefully, dropping his arm around both his sons and pulling them in close.

And they _were_ such words. Quintus Marcius Turbo was a prefect of the Praetorian Guard, and Trajan’s closest military advisor, not to mention a close friend on top of that. Both Marcius and Acilius’s words were gold, and Afer had never looked jollier.

“Well someone unbeatable has to protect Auron when he takes the throne,” Marcius reasoned, gnawing on a chicken bone to get the last of its meat off. “Only fitting it be his twin brother. I hear that’s a tight bond.”

“I’ll protect everyone,” Hadrian vowed, making their section of the table laugh with pride and pat him on the head if they were close enough.

“My fellow Romans!” Trajan called, enacting silence at once out of respect and standing from his chair to be seen down the table. “Our expansion is seeing more and more success. Our enemies cower, and run from the waves of our blades. Soon, we will pass Bithynia, then we shall sweep Mesopotamia, and Babylonia, and who’s to say the Parthians will stand any chance?” he cried, slamming his goblet down to be filled and then holding it up for a toast as his company hollered and cheered.

“Sweep the world!” a voice yelled in celebration, starting a chain reaction of similar statements to billow back up the table.

“By the time the life in me is all but gone, I swear to you now I will have stretched Rome as far as it can go, and after me, Auron shall stretch it further still. Rome will not slow until we cover _every speck of land in this world_! We will never shrink! We will never fall!” he bellowed, thrusting his cup forward and only losing a tiny bit of sloshed wine before he and the other adults inhaled theirs as well.

Auron sat proudly in place and watched the action, putting all his faith into Trajan to do the very things he spoke of so that by the time his rule came around, he wouldn’t have much to do in the case of expansion. He didn’t want to have to fight for dominance, he wanted to have it unchallenged already. He wanted it to come with his very name. _I will never make anyone bow to me,_ he thought in his almost nine-year-old head, reaching forward to take a filled goblet and steal a small sip to demonstrate what he hoped looked like maturity. _They will never need to be asked. They just will._

  


\---

  


Hadrian woke up to the sounds of wreckage; what kind of wreckage, he couldn’t be sure, but things were definitely being broken. He snapped his eyes open and sat up as quickly as his muscles would allow, feeling for Auron beside him in their bed and getting a cold chill when he found his spot empty. So Auron was behind the breaking, then.

“Auron?” he called, his ears guiding his gaze into the corner of their cubicula, even if it was impossible to see in the darkness. In the corner of their room was a small table that held an intricate vase and other ceramic and gifted tokens they’d received just for being alive, but it sounded like neither the table nor anything it supported were in one piece anymore. “Shit,” he hissed, feeling around for the candle he knew was close by when their mother busted into the room with her own lit torch, their father right behind her.

“Auron!” Paulina cried, pushing the torch to Afer and then carefully sliding on her knees to grab a hold of Auron and stop him from hurting himself with the ceramic shards.

Because apparently that was what he’d been doing—breaking things so he could hurt himself with whatever jagged pieces he created.

“Don’t touch me!” Auron screamed, shoving Paulina back and holding out a sharp piece of vase as if he would actually use it if she advanced...and maybe in this state, he really would.

“Let me, Mom,” Hadrian begged, fitting his small hands around her shoulders and pulling back to get her out of the way. His father walked over and finished the job, helping her up with a hand around her elbow and taking two wide steps backward.

“Auron, please—can you put that down?” Hadrian asked, kneeling to the dusty ground to try his hand at calming his current calamity of a brother. He could not believe it was happening again. _Again_. This was a lot like last time, and Hadrian could no longer delude himself into thinking it had been a one-time thing...and he didn’t know what that meant for them all. “Auron…”

“Get back— _now_!” Auron growled, changing his defensive tone and holding the vase shard to his own throat instead. “I’ll do it, I swear!”

“Jupiter, help him!” Paulina wailed to the ceiling, gripping onto her husband as though she had no feeling in her legs.

“Son, you are to be the Emperor of Rome! Pull yourself together!” Afer shouted, probably thinking he could snap Auron out of it, but Hadrian knew better.

“Can’t you see that won’t help?” Hadrian barked over his shoulder, turning back around and holding out his hand. “Auron, just give me that and we’ll leave,” he pleaded, even giving his wild brother a comforting smile that he hoped wouldn’t come up later during Auron’s accusations when this was all over—since he was outright lying, and all.

“You’ll go?” Auron asked guardedly, still not recognizing these people as his family but at least understanding their words.

“I promise,” Hadrian said, inwardly grimacing at himself and shaking his hand to reinforce the request.

Auron frowned and stared into his eyes like any frightened stranger would, apparently finding those eyes somewhat trustworthy because he slowly moved the shard from his neck and began holding it out.

Hadrian kept up his smile the whole time, and when Auron’s wrist was finally within his reach, he struck out like a snake and grabbed him hard, yanking him forward and causing him drop the shard to the ground.

“You liar!”

“Father!” Hadrian shouted, slapping a hand on Auron’s back and thrusting him with all his strength toward his parents.

Afer pushed his wife aside and dashed forward to capture his son, whipping him around once he caught him and squeezing his arms around his chest so he couldn’t bite him or do anything else easy to escape.

“Mom, help me with these!” Hadrian commanded in a rush, already picking up every shard he could find and running to the hall to drop them carelessly onto the ground, then going back to collect more.

Paulina set the torch in the wall mount and rushed to the corner once more, going straight for the broken table and transporting it out of the room to make shard-finding easier. As an effective and fast-working team, Paulina and Hadrian emptied the room of any easy weapon possible, searching the room after clearing the corner and tossing things outside like they were playing a round of discs, all the while enduring Auron’s yelling and curses as he futilely tried to fight back against Afer.

“I’ll kill you all!” Auron shrieked, going between using his dead weight to drag himself down and then pushing back as hard as he could to overthrow the man trying to hurt him.

“Sweetie, let’s go,” Paulina said, checking once more around the bed to make sure the boys didn’t have knives hidden under their pillows and then guiding Hadrian out of the room.

“Sorry, Auree,” Hadrian said through sudden tears as they passed him, cringing from the look of foreign hatred on his twin’s face and letting his mother lift him into her arms so his barefeet avoided the outside hall. He grabbed the torch from its holder at the last second and dropped it in one just outside the door, leaning against the wall when he was put down a safe distance away.

“I’m sorry about this, son,” Afer said sadly, walking him a bit further into the emptied cubicula and then spinning him around to face him, heaving a great sigh and then punching Auron hard in the face to knock him to the ground. Auron cried out and landed straight on his stomach from how sharply the assault had turned him, and that was Afer’s chance to leave. He crossed the cubicula in three large running steps and fearlessly jumped out into the hall since he had his sandals on, slamming the door closed and holding himself up against it. “Jupiter…”

“Let me out!” Auron screamed from inside the room, obviously throwing himself into the door repeatedly without regard to how such actions could actually hurt himself in the process.

“What do we do?” Hadrian asked with a wavering tone, holding a hand over his mouth to mask his sobs and working hard to get his emotions under control. He couldn’t feel too much in this situation or his ability to calculate objectively would be lost to the wind. His heart couldn’t be in anything, any turmoil great or small, as a warrior—that was the Roman way. But that ‘way’ was hard to accomplish when _Auron_ was the subject of this horror...very hard.

“Go get two members of my personal guard. I don’t want this getting out, but they’re sworn to secrecy. No more than two,” Afer heaved, wincing every time he felt Auron’s collisions against his back.

“Okay,” Hadrian said with a nod, immediately running off through the pillars opposite the cubicula door and through the atrium, all the way across their domus to get outside and to the guard’s smaller-sized insula. He was honestly surprised they weren’t already here, considering all the screaming, but he also knew their post was strictly set outside to ensure their safety from external threats. Who would ever guess one would be internal?

He ripped the front door open and hissed from the cold, running his bare feet through the damp soil of the courtyard gardens and immediately garnering the attention of the two awake guardsmen outside their insula, the other six of which would be inside sleeping since it wasn’t their shift. “Iduma! Cadmus!”

“What is it, Master Hadrian?” Iduma asked on full alert (which meant he’d definitely heard the ruckus inside), gripping the sword handle at his hip in case something would come chasing Hadrian from around the corner.

“I need you two inside,” Hadrian said breathlessly, his pounding heart having sprung about long before the sprint outside.

Cadmus opened their door and shouted inside for two others to take their place, shutting it when he saw at least two forms rolling right out of their beds and onto the floor. They then ran after Hadrian, who had barely waited for them until taking off, and the three of them raced themselves through the vestibulum straight to the western hall wherein the chaos lie.

Hadrian leaned himself against the wall as the guardsmen arrived onto the scene, bending over since his duty was done and holding onto his knees while black spots danced across his vision, threatening to drag him under the surface of consciousness until he steadied his breathing.

“Sir!” the guardsmen said at once, saluting Afer without question and waiting for their orders.

“Iduma, Cadmus,” Afer sighed, toying with his beard and tutting in disappointment when Auron threw himself against the door again after an apparent break from doing so. “Just stand here. Auron is...unwell. We can’t let him out,” he said regretfully, preparing to switch places like lightning when they were clear to swiftly take his place.

“Of course, Sir,” Cadmus said, flanking Afer with Iduma and quietly giving the signal just in case Auron would time an attack depending on their actions. Afer stepped forward then and they slid into place, both of their weight against the door surely set to make things harder for Auron should he continue.

“Let me out, you animals!” Auron snarled, trying once again to break through the door and actually yelping this time because unlike the inch he budged when his father was guarding it, Iduma and Cadmus made it unmovable.

“Stay there until I release you. If you still need to be there by morning, I’ll bring you food,” Afer sighed, turning his gaze to his family once his guards nodded their understanding. “You two clean this hall up and then meet me in the triclinium.”

“Yes, dear,” Paulina said, removing the night shawl from her shoulders and laying it out on the floor to place shards on.

Hadrian ran his hands through his curly hair and crouched down to help out, scooping up a handful of shards regardless of his personal safety and tipping his hands to relocate them onto the fabric. He and his mother worked in silence, moving the chunks of table to the furthest corner of the hall and patting around the ground, running their hands across it when they assumed they were done to make sure that was correct.

When neither of them bled, essentially, Paulina took the corners of the smooth fabric and tied it into a sack, lifting it as she stood and placing it in the same area as the broken wood, wiping her forehead and then holding her hand out for Hadrian’s.

Hadrian might have assumed that he would get instantly led out by that gesture, but his mother used his hand to pull him in for a hug instead, petting his hair and rubbing at his back in that calming way she always did. Hadrian sunk into her like wet clay, clenching his fists on the back of her soft stola and holding his breath to continue successfully restraining his emotions—they were dangerously close to overflowing now.

“Be strong, Hadrian,” she whispered into his ear, kissing just above it and giving him the time he needed before he broke away himself. It took a while, but eventually his hands loosened from her clothing and he wiped at his face, taking several measured breaths to bring himself back to a level of patience and calm he could work with.

“Let’s go,” Hadrian said with a stone face when he won his battle, patting at his face to refocus himself and walking into the atrium (pointedly ignoring the statue altar for their Lar God because it certainly wasn’t guarding the domus tonight) to make a hard left toward the triclinium without her. If he couldn’t function without his mother holding his hand, he would never be much of anything. He kept his hand securely around his bulla, wondering if Auron’s had broken or lost its power...he should have been protected, and he wasn’t. Why?

They reached the candlelit triclinium, and Afer was already in his pacing stage, a habit that rarely stopped once it started unless some all-curing solution to his turmoil arose. They each took a seat upon the largest couch in the room, one of three that surrounded the center table, donned with pillows and cushions, and waited for Afer to speak first, knowing even if they had to wait a while, he would at some point.

“I don’t actually know if I can talk about it yet,” Afer said after no time at all, rubbing the part of his head where he was losing the most hair and sighing as he shifted his toga so he wouldn’t trip and spun around to continue pacing.

Paulina let out a sigh of her own but it was one only Hadrian beside her could hear, running her fingers through her rarely undone hair (rare simply because Hadrian hardly ever saw her without its Flavian updo) and bouncing her legs up on down with the balls of her feet. They could easily hear Auron from here, and because of that, their tension could not and _would_ not subside.

Hadrian gnawed on his lips and picked up the bulla pendant from around his neck once again, the thing that should always keep children safe, trying to bend down to look at it even though it was fairly short. He gave up when he only caught the bottom edge in his sight and broke the silence, asking the question he’d uselessly asked himself earlier. “Is Auron’s bulla broken?”

Afer paused in his steps and met his son’s eyes, sighing for the countless time and walking over to the couch between its scaled ferns to kneel before him and take his hands. “...Think of it like Auron being even worse off than he is now _without_ it,” he said, trying to kill the thought of ‘broken bulla’ from becoming a full-blown theory in his impressionable son’s mind. Bullas couldn’t break...but it was an intelligent guess.

“I can’t imagine that,” Hadrian said quietly, biting his lip even harder when his eyes started to sting with telltale tears. _Not now...not yet._

“My wife and son, you two should retire,” Afer said, placing one hand on both Hadrian and Paulina’s inner knees. “Go and get the rest you deserve, try to ignore the noise…” he said, unable to simply put Auron’s name to said noise, “...and I’ll come to bed later. Don’t wait.”

“Of course, dear. Please follow us soon,” Paulina said as she held her hand over Afer’s, wishing he wouldn’t pace until sunrise like last time.

“Mm. Goodnight,” Afer said, standing back up and going right back to his circular walks around their luxurious potted plants.

“Come on,” Paulina whispered to Hadrian, helping him up and walking him back through the atrium and across to the eastern hall, to the master cubicula to tuck in for the night. Once there, she first took off her sandals, and then fell down into bed, beckoning Hadrian to her and rubbing at her collarbones.

Hadrian walked up to the bed and blew out the candle that bathed the room in minimal light anyway, feeling his way across the slight padding until he found his mom under her blanket, cuddling up to her and finally letting those tears go. With her, it was okay.

“Oh, my child,” Paulina whined, holding Hadrian close and letting him expel all of the pent-up emotions he’d suppressed. “Shh,” she hushed, petting his hair and resting her cheek on his forehead. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Can we?” Hadrian cried, images of Auron’s crazed eyes flashing through his mind. Those eyes had been completely different than his normal ones— _completely_. He never wanted to see them again and it terrified him down to his bones that he might be stuck looking at them for a long time. If Auron was this unstable...what would happen to Rome? What would happen to this family? Surely this could be cured...right?

“We can do anything,” Paulina asserted, wondering herself if that statement was even close to true—she couldn’t have Hadrian losing hope, though. He needed it most. Truth be told, though, this didn’t look good at all, and the more this happened, the harder it would be to hide. They would need a physician soon, and they weren’t sure they could trust any of them with such a secret… _Gods, tell me what to do._

“I hope so,” Hadrian responded, flipping over and scooting back until his mother wrapped him up in her arms from behind. “I can hear him…” he said, still dubious that he could sleep while those yells and cries (and occasional bangs and crashes) were still transpiring in his cubicula. “Are you sure we should leave him alone?”

“Yes, that’s the best thing to do,” Paulina said with a sure mind, using Auron’s reactions to visitors as incentive to leave him be. That irrefutably put him further on edge, and nobody needed that after the meltdown they’d already seen tonight. “I know it may be hard to sleep, but please try. We’ll talk this over soon, and just...we can do anything,” she repeated, praying her efforts to instill hope in her son would be effective. She didn’t have much energy to keep everyone together herself—they needed to believe and have their own faith.

“Okay...I love you, Mother,” Hadrian said heavily, wiping the dampness from his cheeks and pulling the blanket over his head to lock himself in the illusion of an impenetrable world.

“And I you, my special and cherished Hadrianus,” she professed, beginning to rub up and down Hadrian’s top arm with the slowest of motions, on track to put him to sleep from the repetition.

Hadrian vowed to keep his eyes closed because opening them even once would inevitably slow his progress toward sleep, and he kept his mind on Auron the entire time even if that seemed counter-productive. It wasn’t like he could possibly think of anything else, so he used what he was stuck with to wear him out on its own—what else in this world could be as exhausting?

No surprise that it worked.


	2. Unforeseen Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, fuck the FCC. And Donald fucking Trump while we're at. We may very well live to see ww3, and if we do, yall gotta stay strong like our Great Grandparents and Grandparents did for the last ones. Surely there will be a lot of death, but if you're mad smart about it, you may survive. Long enough to see this period of time documented into your grandchildren's history books. I wonder what that chapter would be called. "The Generation that utterly fell apart" lmao. Don't mind me, I'm sure everything will be just FINE.*squints eyes and tries to convince self of that*  
> Second, Merry early Christmas.  
> Third, I feel like a dried up pollock for making actual readers wait so long. Don't tell me it's fine, it's not fine. I'll work on it. When have you ever heard that promise before? xD  
> Enjoy.

“Hadrian—Hadrian, come on, wake up,” Afer urged, gently rocking his son back and forth until he opened his eyes.

“Father,” Hadrian groaned, about to ask him for just a while longer of rest when the events of last night blasted through his head, propelling him up into a sitting position as he glanced wildly around. “Auron?” he asked, seeing his mother dressing into her stola in the corner of his eye.

“Is quiet, but no, you can’t go check on him,” Afer said sternly, pulling Hadrian out of bed whether he wanted to leave or not. “You’re to attend your training as if it was any other normal day, and when you get home, then we’ll talk,” he said, dropping Hadrian’s extra sandals down by his feet and handing off his just-shy-of-knee-length tunic at him to change into.

“How could I fight today?” Hadrian grumbled to himself, stripping down and dressing himself in a daze. Fight? Train? Today? He didn’t think he could possibly be any more distracted than he was now, and that would probably get him hit in the head at least a few times.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Afer asked, taking a knee to make himself smaller than his large-prided son and offer some wisdom if he’d take it.

“Hm?” Hadrian asked, fastening all his fibulae as he repeatedly moved his eyes to his father’s.

“Being under stress and pressure can sometimes make one the best fighter they can be,” Afer informed, thinking over his phrasing and making a small correction. “And actually, ‘sometimes’ is a low estimate. Done right, it always does.”

Hadrian, now fully dressed, stopped all movement, pondering that concept and then snapping his fingers when he remembered where he’d heard it. “I’ve heard Marcius say that.”

“Mm,” Afer hummed with a smile, ruffling his son’s hair and standing to finish dressing himself. “Marcius was right—do you know why that is?”

“It seems like a bad thing to me...I don’t know,” Hadrian admitted, eager to learn something he could keep in mind and utilize for the rest of his life.

“Well, you channel your inner self when you fight,” Afer explained, taking a seat on his bed and patting the space beside him to invite his son to come over, which he did. “What do you channel when you fight—your strength, right? You channel your strength through your arms with a blade, channel it through your legs to move and evade, yes?” he asked, waiting until he got a nod from Hadrian before moving on. “Well, you can also channel more than that. You can channel your emotions. If you’re angry or frustrated, you can send your anger and frustration through your arms, legs, and blade, and the best thing is, this makes you even stronger.”

“Oh…” Hadrian said, not quite sure he understood how to orchestrate his feelings in such a way, but it was a definitely a challenge he was looking forward to taking on.

“Never shy away from your feelings, Hadrian. Use them—and use them well. We as Romans strive not to show personal emotion, as you know, we hide our hearts. Do you know why?” he prompted, happy to bestow the one piece of knowledge that had guided him through the darkest of his days.

“Because we save them for later,” Hadrian answered, finally catching onto what his father meant by all this. Everything in his life just got a tiny bit easier to understand.

“Yeah? And what do we save them for? Where do we put them?” Afer asked, sure that if Hadrian got this right here and now, he would never falter as a soldier.

“On the battlefield,” Hadrian said, grunting when his father yanked him into his chest and squeezed him like he was a fruit in need of juicing.

“That’s my boy,” Afer praised, meeting Paulina’s eyes and grinning until it hurt while she shook her head in fond exasperation. “Now go—Marcius will be expecting you,” he said, lifting Hadrian up and placing him on the ground as he stood himself.

“Bye, Father—Mother,” Hadrian said, waving at them both as he took off in a jog to reach the outside stables and take his young horse, Celer, and head to the training grounds for the day. He felt smarter now than he did five minutes ago, and almost a bit egotistical about it, but he figured that pride would guide him dependably...he just couldn’t wait to test this all out. _I’m going to be the best there ever was. Better than Julius Caesar—better than Aléxandros ho Mégas—better than them all._

  


\---

  


Hadrian, after the fourth and longest round yet, was on his back once again with a wooden pole at his neck. “Ah,” he panted, dropping his head to the dirt and squeezing his eyes while he tried to recuperate from the fall.

“If this was war, you’d be dead,” Marcius needlessly reminded, moving his dueling stick away and leaning down to offer a hand. “Come on, get up. We’re going again.”

“I can’t—channel my frustration,” Hadrian heaved, stumbling a bit after he was lifted to his feet and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“What?” Marcius chuckled, fitting his hands around the tip of his pole and resting his chin down because there would obviously be a short break for Hadrian to explain himself.

“Channel my frustration. You and my father both have told me the same thing now—to use my emotions with my fighting,” Hadrian said breathlessly, shifting a little bit to the side of Marcius so he wasn’t getting so blinded from the setting sun in the west. He'd been here all day.

“Well, what are your emotions right now? What frustrates you?” Marcius asked, gesturing to the bench for them to sit in the shade and really take a breather.

“Uh, I can’t...I can’t tell you that,” Hadrian said apologetically as he took a heavy seat, wishing he could just say it, but he really couldn’t when it concerned his brother, the next in line for Emperor of Rome. The information regarding his condition was a bit too confidential for a mere training match, and a little bit more than the head prefect needed to know.

“Then find a way to tell me without really telling me,” Marcius suggested, happy the session was even going in a direction like this because it could and would be very useful to Hadrian if he could learn to harness it.

“Well...someone’s hurting and there’s nothing I can do to fix it,” Hadrian said, hoping that wouldn’t be too much. It was true that he had friends outside of his family, Antinous in particular, whom he trained and schooled with, so it wasn’t too far-fetched it could be one of them.

“Ah, that is a very natural frustration to have. None of us like feeling powerless. We’re Roman, we shouldn’t endure such struggles, right?” Marcius said with a sad smile, absentmindedly fixing the pendant on his necklace, which had ended up down his back instead of chest.

“It’s important this person doesn’t hurt anymore, but I—I can’t... _do anything_ about it, I’m completely worthless,” Hadrian said with a forlorn slump of his shoulders, kicking the dirt beneath his feet and genuinely pouting from all the stress.

“Then here’s what you should do...just follow my lead, and don’t be afraid to hurt me,” Marcius said, giving a comforting pat to Hadrian’s head and then standing tall to let the games continue.

“Hurt you?” Hadrian repeated, following after his mentor as he moved back into the middle of the grounds. “I don’t think I could.”

“You could if I told you I’m the cause of your person’s pain,” Marcius said maliciously, as if a dark shadow overtook his entire personality, giving Hadrian a shock and chill of unease.

“W-what?” Hadrian asked blankly, positive Marcius was only playing a role but there was something really convincing about his act that Hadrian couldn’t ignore. “What do you…”

“It’s me doing it—all part of my plan,” Marcius chuckled, swinging his pole up and holding it straight out to point at Hadrian and make him back up a few paces. “You know why? Because this person deserves it,” he bit, taking a step toward Hadrian and smiling in the creepiest way he could manage.

“You take that back!” Hadrian shouted, not finding this game any amount of useful if Marcius was going to unknowingly insult his twin brother.

“But it’s true,” Marcius egged on, adopting an air of villainous flippancy, as though his evil plan had already come to fruition and there was nothing this protagonist could do. “They are weak and useless—a shame to Rome—and the world is better off without them.”

“He’s _not_ useless!” Hadrian barked, swinging forward before he even thought about it and clashing his pole with Marcius’s, only to get his knocked aside right after, but he held on strong and didn’t let it tumble out of his hand.

“Yes he is!” Marcius persisted, making sharp forward stabbing motions and inwardly delighting that Hadrian had the adrenaline to block every single one in quick succession. “And you know what else? Since he’s better off dead, I think I may just do it myself.”

“You—you don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hadrian growled, leaping out of the way and running in for a side attack that might have worked if he were taller, but he was blocked effortlessly...at least he dodged the ‘blade,’ though.

“And _you’re_ _just_ as useless,” Marcius spat, his eyes cold and void of all the affection they usually carried, ripping apart Hadrian’s safe space and leaving him on the field with an ill-wishing stranger. “Maybe your little hurting friend would have a shot if they had someone other than you looking out for them. But look at you—you can’t even land a single blow when their pride is at stake. When _your_ pride is at stake. You’ve doomed the both of you—”

“That’s enough!” Hadrian bellowed as deep as his hormonally-cracking voice would allow, seeing a flash of red and diving in for Marcius, dropping low at the last second and successfully hitting the backs of his knees, which would have done major damage if these were real blades. _Did I just do that?_

“Good!” Marcius cheered, lifting Hadrian by a hand around his neck and shoving him backward to start again. “Now fight me!”

And fight they did. For an unknowable amount of time, Hadrian fought like Auron himself depended on it, seeing things faster than he ever had, hitting stronger than he ever had, and every time he began to feel only a little tired, more insults came his way, and he felt brand new.

He felt like he’d never been angrier about anything in his life, and that was probably true. Auron’s situation itself was the core, but he hadn’t let himself really feel it until now. Marcius had unhinged him, and he fought like a gorgon until he had his mentor on _his_ back.

When it actually happened he didn't know how to react, or even if it was real. The only thing he could do was stare—try to remember what he’d even done to get here, straddling Marcius with his pole lodged sideways up into his lower jaw. He couldn't remember. Whatever he'd done, though, had clearly worked, and Marcius had never looked so proud.  

“You may not believe me,” Marcius attempted to say, smiling gratefully when Hadrian realized the issue and removed his pole. “But I really wasn't holding back during your last attack.”

“Wow,” Hadrian breathed, quickly scrambling off Marcius’s chest when he made the move to get up. “Are you okay?”

“Okay? Yes, I'm okay,” Marcius chuckled, sitting up straight and choosing to stay there, dusting the dirt from his palms and rubbing at the backs of his knees, where he was sure to bruise. “Talented or not, you're still a kid—but a fast kid, and you know how to use your size to your advantage. You knocked me off my center balance, which is something you’ll have to master because if it got me, you’re damn good at it.”

“Apologize,” Hadrian said, discarding all his mentor’s words of praise because that wasn’t what he needed or wanted to hear right now.

“What?” Marcius balked, actually taken aback that Hadrian would still hold onto his pretend insults even after understanding the point to it all. “I’m not going to apologize for unlocking inner strengths you didn’t walk in here with. It was necessary. You know I didn’t mean it—I couldn’t have possibly.”

“I know. But you still shouldn’t have said it,” Hadrian persisted with passion, annoyed he had to hide why it was so crucial. Marcius hadn’t known it, but he’d insulted his own Emperor; calling Auron weak had inadvertently challenged Trajan’s will in choosing a successor. He couldn’t have known, but...it still felt so wrong to let go.

Marcius stared at him for a while, weighing his accountability and finally blowing out a sigh that proved he’d held his breath that whole time in thought. “Alright, I’m sorry, Hadrian,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s knee for extra sincerity.

“It’s alright, I guess,” Hadrian said, well aware that it was a dead-end to make him understand the gravity of his words, so a basic and oblivious apology would of course have to suffice. “You know...at the very start of that...when you said you’re the cause...I almost believed you,” he chuckled, saying it in such a way so he wouldn’t look as sad as he felt. “Had I not known you well enough, I might have thought I’d lost you.”

“Oh, Hadrian,” Marcius chortled, getting out his laughter with a sigh and then getting serious when he saw Hadrian’s troubled expression. “That must be credited to my acting ability. Wasn’t sure I had one, but...listen,” he said, refocusing himself to get to the point. “I won’t always be your friend, Hadrian. I can’t be. I may be _on your side_ , but I won’t always be your friend.”

“Always? What do you mean? Are we friends regularly?” Hadrian asked, having not considered his mentor as anything of the such. Dear to him and familial, yes, but that’s not a friendship—it’s an official relationship of teacher and student.

“Yes, in my opinion, you silly kid,” Marcius said with a pinch to Hadrian’s cheek, which he didn’t much appreciate but Marcius didn’t care. “You’re going to grow up like a weed if you’re anything like your father, and once you’re an adult, I have the feeling you’ll have things to teach _me_ —we’ll be good friends when our age difference doesn’t mean as much,” he said, hoping he lived to see Hadrian turn into the general he knew he could be. “We’re in this together.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Hadrian said sheepishly, suddenly feeling all grown up already with a future prediction like that.

“Nothing needs to be said,” Marcius said, clapping his hands together and taking Hadrian’s pole from him to put both back on their rack. “Good job today, Hadrian, I mean it. Just go home for now, and I’ll see you in two days.”

“Alright—thank you,” Hadrian said, walking away with a bounce in his step toward the stables to collect his horse and head home. He reached the stables in less time than he usually did, and Jonas was there as usual, just finishing up his brush grooming on Celer. “Jonas, nice to see you.”

“Oh! Hello Hadrianus,” Jonas said with a bow, moving away from Celer and setting the brush on his stool for now.

Jonas was only a little bit older than Hadrian, but he was the son of an Eques senator, one of the finest members of the calvary, so he had the civil rights to take care of the highest class members’ horses while they were here at the training grounds. The days when Hadrian was here were the days that _only_ he was here, so Celer was the only horse in a stall, and he was always thankful that someone still watched out for him and Celer.

“Did he give you any problems?” Hadrian asked, accustomed to reciting that question every night as he was leaving.

“No, no,” Jonas said with a smile, giving Celer a pat on the side and guiding him forward as he opened the waist-high gate of the stall. “Never has, wouldn’t now.”

“Good,” Hadrian said, making kissy faces at Celer once he was handed off in the middle of the stable aisle. “Had to ask—thanks again,” he said, demonstrating just how much his short height didn’t matter by leaping up onto Celer’s back like he’d sprouted wings.

“Have a good night, Hadrianus,” Jonas said, yawning into his fist and returning to the stall to finish cleaning up for the day.

“Mm,” Hadrian replied with a polite nod, whistling to Celer to get him walking and then ducking under the stable door in case he might finally be tall enough to hit his head on the arch...he wasn’t, but good to practice now.

Once fully outside, he prompted Celer into a bit of a canter, aching to feel the wind on his face. He’d remembered just after entering the stable that going home meant getting that ‘talk,’ and his happy mood from training plummeted then and there. He didn’t know what was going to happen, and it was a shame he couldn’t go straight back to Marcius afterward and get the surely new frustrations he would have out. He just didn’t feel like suppressing it for a full two days.

His journey home through the main paths of the city went mostly unnoticed, only a few nods from the Romans with a pronounced nightlife, and far too soon, he was back home, guiding Celer into the stable where a member of the guard was waiting for him. He slowed Celer to a full stop and hopped off, handing the reins off to the man he didn’t even check identity for in his distracted impatience to get inside. He had to get this over with.

He slipped through the front door and quietly shut it behind him, taking a deep breath and gulping multiple times before following the candlelight to the atrium. He’d expected to see his parents there waiting for him, but he was met with an empty room, save for their Lar altar, so his nerves were put on hold. _Where are they?_

He looked around and checked the culina, where meals were frequently cooked by his mother even if they had the class to utilize the city’s cooks, but still no sign of Afer or Paulina. He shook his head in confusion and decided to check his own room next, thinking they might be with Auron, and on instinct, he softened his footsteps to a degree in which he could have been a mere mouse. For some reason he wanted to investigate—to choose for himself how he would announce his presence.

He walked across the atrium en route to his room, and when he heard the first whisper, he rose up onto his toes, gracefully stepping his way to the nearest pillar that stood between him and his cubicula door in the far left corner. The whispers were his parents, alright, and he peeked ever so slightly around the edge of the pilar, catching them in the dead-end of the hallway and speaking directly into each other’s faces so they wouldn’t be any louder than they needed to be. _They don’t look too happy._

“I think we can start putting credibility to our worst fears,” Afer said, proving to Hadrian that he really hadn’t missed much of this conversation because that was an opening statement if he’d ever heard one. He strained his ears to catch every word, even regulating his breathing to do it as scarcely as possible.

“Why? Why Auron?” Paulina asked distraughtly, probably making some wild body gesture but of course Hadrian couldn’t see it—he wouldn’t risk looking again.

“Would you have preferred it to be Hadrian?” Afer asked.

“How _dare_ you, you know I would never think that,” Paulina huffed, the two of them probably only bickering out of stress. When they wanted to fight, they could always find a way to do so even if it was the opposite of productive.

“If this continues,” a third voice began, widening Hadrian’s eyes because he’d had no idea there was another person with them. He didn’t know who the voice belonged to, but they were evidently old—he just hoped they were trustworthy. “Then I’m afraid he will be most unfit to rule as Emperor. The chances of securing him in this role are next to none for now...whether this will subside, I’m not sure. But you cannot place your faith in the prediction that it will. You can only hope.”

“But what is it? What’s wrong with my son?” Paulina asked, her voice cracking at the end of the question.

“It is a type of mania,” the voice responded, his deduction of Auron’s mental state alluding to Hadrian that the third voice was most likely the district physician. It wouldn’t make sense to call in the royal one, and Sophus was the next best of his skill.

“Mania?” Paulina whisper-shouted, getting immediately shushed by both Afer and supposedly Sophus.

_Is that Sophus?_

“Sophus, have you seen this before?” Afer asked.

_Yup._

“I have,” Sophus sighed, shifting a bit and probably fixing some wrinkles in his tunic if going by all the fabric sounds. “A few times—hard to forget. Seemingly unpredictable episodes of inhuman rage, occasionally joined by the loss of facial recognition at all, followed sooner or later by a comatose state of depression, unwilling to eat, drink, or sleep until the senses of the normal self return...there is no stop to it. Not one that I’ve yet seen,” he informed, his tone careful but helpfully honest.

“No,” Hadrian mouthed silently, his wide eyes stinging with tears that he would never have been able to stop, Roman or not. He held a hand hard over his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, slowly sliding down the pillar until he hit the floor, bringing his knees into his chest and wishing to disappear from this world, which was clearly malfunctioning and vastly off-kilter. _This can’t be happening._

“Why have the Gods done this?” Paulina sobbed, the sound muffled suggesting that she’d said it from behind her hands.

“Perhaps Auron was never meant to rule,” Sophus theorized, going way out of his bounds but most likely saying it anyway in case they hadn’t thought of that possibility.

“We have to talk to Trajan,” Afer grunted, sighing heavily and evidently leaning hard against the far wall by the random thump that came after his words.

“And tell him what?” Paulina asked, sounding very much against the idea (understandably so) because it felt a bit too soon to be sounding off alarms to the Emperor of Rome.

“Well, tell him...tell him that Hadrian will have to rule in Auron’s place.”

 _What!_ Hadrian snapped his head up so fast it practically slammed into the pillar behind him, springing his limbs into action and scrambling out of his hiding spot so fast it was a wonder how he was still standing afterward. “You can’t be serious,” he deadpanned, walking forward with purpose and pointing an accusatory finger at all three of the wide-eyed grown-ups.  

“Hadrianus!” Paulina gasped, almost feeling stupid for not realizing Hadrian’s training would have ended quite some time ago and he’d have come home by now...not to mention been hiding behind a mere pillar listening in on everything they’d said.

“You can’t take this away from Auron—it’s his birthright,” Hadrian said, not at all minding the volume of his voice even if he was stood just outside his cubicula door, where Auron was currently residing.

“It is no birthright of the Aelius line to inherit Rome,” Afer argued, quick to shoot down Hadrian’s questionable claim of entitlement. “Trajan handpicked and personally selected Auron to be his successor. This was a privilege, not a right. But we cannot in good conscience leave him unaware of these developments. If you want our family to stay in good graces with the true powers of this nation, you’ll step up to the plate and accept the offer I will make on your behalf.”

“But I…” Hadrian began, his fists clenched at his sides while he focused his every fibre into his temper, trying hard to keep it in his head where it belonged, even if it felt extremely reasonable to let it out.

“Now now, dear,” Paulina said in her stern-calm voice, the tone in itself telling Hadrian to swallow anything he could possibly want to say. “There will be plenty of time to talk this over—right now, we should have you getting home,” she said with a personable smile to the physician, “and we should get some rest ourselves,” she added, her naturally persuasive nature putting spells over the two men by her side.

“Yes, quite right, I must have let the time slip away from me,” Sophus said, nodding courteously and starting to walk down the hall. 

Hadrian had half a mind to move himself up against the wall to get out of Sophus’s way, and he’s very glad he remembered to do so or he would have looked exceptionally rude. Sophus passed by him with an apologetic smile, and his parents followed, Paulina reaching out and rubbing his shoulder on her way to let him know she was there for him. Hadrian had the thought she was probably the only one.

All of a sudden he was now alone in the hallway, staring at his own feet and replaying the conversation he’d eavesdropped on before bluntly announcing himself. _‘Tell him that_ _Hadrian will have to rule in Auron’s place_.’ It was absolutely ridiculous—Hadrian couldn’t be Emperor—it wasn’t his duty or plan. He was supposed to be a general, and general was what he was going to be. End of story.

He came to his senses a little bit and looked around the empty hallway, faintly hearing his parents with Sophus somewhere near the vestibulum, and the door to his cubicula was staring him in the face like it was initiating a challenge. Should he go in there? Would Auron even...shit...did Auron just hear everything he said? _Oh fuck…_

Hadrian dropped his jaw and grabbed his hair, scrunching his face and quietly slamming his foot against the floor several times in angered shame at himself. There was no way Auron wouldn’t have heard him; even if he was asleep, the volume of his voice still probably would have woken him. “Why didn’t I…” he muttered, huffing in annoyance and deciding to just go for it and open the door anyway. He’d already done the worst he could.

When he stepped in the room, the still-lit candle made the room actually visible to him, and he focused on the lump on their shared bed, inching across the floor in case Auron might still be asleep.

“You can walk normally,” Auron sighed, shifting around and lightly removing the comforter from over his face.

“Oh,” Hadrian said dumbly, clearing his throat and taking a brave seat on the bed. “Uh…” he said, drawing a blank on what was acceptable to say in a situation like this. Asking Auron if he was okay didn’t seem like a very respectful thing to do, but he would feel weird just speaking about his day like nothing was wrong…

“Just so you don’t have to start it, yes, I heard everything,” Auron said, opening his eyes for the first time in a while and propping himself off his back with his elbows.

“You—you did?” Hadrian asked, hanging his head in shame and regret because that had been all his fault, and not a topic he would have preferred outing first. “I didn’t even think about how loud I was—”

“No, no,” Auron said, shaking his head and heaving himself up to sit upright and grab onto Hadrian’s knee. “I mean I heard everything. Long before you got there,” he said, stroking his brother’s knee with his thumb to try and make him feel better. _The fact that I’m worried for my brother right now and not me…_

“Ohhh,” Hadrian drawled, now at an even shallower loss for words because everything was in the open, but completely impossible to talk about. Where would he start?

“And I think it’s...a good idea,” Auron added, meeting Hadrian’s suddenly fierce eye contact with as much strength and will that he could muster.

“Are you...no, Auron, I can’t,” Hadrian pleaded, taking the hand on his knee and wrapping all ten fingers around it as he brought it to his chest. “You know I could never take that in your place.”

“Hayway,” Auron huffed, yanking his hand free of Hadrian’s clutches and scooting away when his little brother tried to follow. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do. If you had any respect for me in a political manner, even once, then let me give you an order that you would’ve had to follow in ten years anyway without a choice. Let Auron the former-future Emperor of Rome speak right now. Take my place, help this family, and do anything you ever have to do to secure your leadership. And do not _ever_ change your mind,” he said, having put the manliest and most authoritative voice he could scrounge up into the command to make his brother flinch.

Hadrian had so much fight left in him, he really did; he probably could have argued with Auron over this for two entire days without sleep or food and still have enough energy to keep refusing, but...now he couldn’t. He saw himself _trying_ to keep going and knew in his head where that would lead him, and he knew he’d already lost.

Auron had never used his status and that kind of wording to form an _order_ before, because he’d literally never given Hadrian an _order_ before, and because of said obvious status, it had felt too much like a decree to disobey—as though the future Emperor had signed and declared a law upon Hadrian. One which he may not ever break. Auron may not even be close to Emperor, but there was no denying how powerful that next-in-line aura was. Hadrian had no choice.

“And if you get better?” Hadrian asked, not missing the surprised flash in Auron’s eyes over how instantly he’d accepted the decision. _What?_ he asked his brother, waiting patiently for his reply in the meantime. _I can be reasonable when I have to be._

“Dumb question—if I get better, I’m taking my spot back,” Auron said, reaching out to hold the hand he’d previously thrown away in a moment of weakness. “But Hayway, I...something’s telling me that I won’t see this dreamlike recovery you hope for. I heard what the physician said...I’m not brainless…” he mumbled, absentmindedly playing with Hadrian’s wrist bone and knuckles while he contemplated the reality of his chances.

“That sounds like someone who’s already given up,” Hadrian remarked, finally able to scoot closer without Auron practically hissing at him like an offended cat. “And that’s not like you.”

“What then, brother? Would you have me ignorant?” Auron challenged, turning Hadrian’s points against him like his mentor had always taught him (and never forgot to mention how notably he excelled in). “Eternally vying for a miraculous feat of merciful Gods that may never occur? Living out every day in sheer denial and hopeless faith that things turn in my favour? When they won’t, at best may not? What then, Hadrian? What then would be left for me? Is it not better to accept the inevitable? Would you have me running from it for the rest of my—”

“Auron,” Hadrian interrupted, forgetting all about his brother’s earlier professionalism and slapping a hand over his mouth as he leaned in unreasonably close. Auron’s muffled protests earned him a sharp hush, and he obediently shut up, letting Hadrian continue as he’d set out to. “I only think it’s too soon to make those kind of plans. Let us wait only a while longer to know for sure that which we clearly don’t. If your condition resists to change, if the worst is realized, then I will do as you say. I will do whatever is best for you—and I will only ever let _you yourself_ tell me what that may be. This I swear,” he vowed, removing his hand and placing a quick kiss to his brother’s lips to apologize for his impulsiveness.

“Fine,” Auron muttered, falling onto his back with a sigh and gently pulling on Hadrian’s sleeve to ask he follow. “Just hold me, please. The addled mind drags the body along with it,” he joked, trying to uphold a light attitude about it because if he didn’t, darkness awaited, and he didn’t know how deep it would be this time.

Hadrian didn’t say a word and lowered to lie sideways on the bed using his elbow as a stand, gently holding Auron’s face with his free hand and sliding it into his hair to pull him forward by the back of his head. Auron got the idea and burrowed into his twin’s chest, and once the free space was given to let Hadrian’s propped up arm fall and snake around his back, he knew he could be asleep in a maximum of five minutes.

“I know you don’t want to give up, Auree,” Hadrian said, playing a dangerous and unpredictable game. He knew Auron’s reaction to badgering couldn’t be anything good, but what else was he supposed to do? Literally not fight it at all? Not bloody likely.

“Maybe not...but is giving up really the worst thing you can imagine? Do I shame Rome that much by handing the power to you? Isn’t your definition of ‘giving up’ actually taking the better path here?” Auron responded, shocking the both of them with his outstanding nonchalance over something both would assume would have had him steaming from the ears like an angry volcano. _Have I somehow become an adult in one day?_

“I just...I really want you to wait,” Hadrian repeated, drilling this if nothing else because it seemed the least to ask for in his position.

“Mother already said they would speak with Trajan—at that point, it won’t be up to me,” Auron reminded, kicking Hadrian’s cold foot away when it jarringly brushed up against his ankle.

“I can postpone that—come on, that’s obvious,” Hadrian said, tempted to just cross their home this very second and barge into their parents’ master cubicula to set the waiting game in stone.

“Stay here, idiot,” Auron snapped, yanking Hadrian back down and caging him in with all his limbs.

“I hadn’t thought I’d moved,” Hadrian said truthfully, sinking back into his spot and relaxing all the muscles he’d evidently tensed to get out of bed.

“Even _if_ you hadn’t, your very aura is screaming the same wish,” Auron said, sighing from somewhere deep in his soul and closing his eyes as Hadrian began instinctively finger-combing through his hair like he did his own.

“I’ll surrender tonight; but when we wake up, I’m talking to our parents,” Hadrian said, completely unwilling to come to any other compromise but that. The Aelius household could not be impulsive regarding this curséd toil or chances would be lost. This was the time to plan—not go crying to Trajan at the crack of dawn.

“Hayway?” Auron whispered, snuggling further into his twin and smiling when Hadrian threw the top blanket over them so they were wholly covered. He hadn’t even needed to say that’s what he wanted, but that’s just a common twin thing. “Thanks for being my brother,” he said sheepishly, nearly cringing at his own words until Hadrian’s squeezing left no room to do so.

“Auree,” Hadrian cooed, quickly letting go when Auron wheezed so he could actually get air in his lungs and then kissing him hard on the forehead. Tomorrow, the day after, and perhaps the rest of their lives might be excruciatingly complicated, but at least for now the only world they knew was under a blanket. If only they could buy this world and live in it forever. “Nothing to thank me for, and I think I should be the one doing it anyway...I’m never going anywhere, and I’m not letting you get away from me either. We’re gonna make it through this because we’re brothers—we’ll be brothers for thousands of years.”

“ _Thousands_?” Auron laughed in confusion, staring hard where he knew his brother's face to be, even if the darkness was too thick to really make it out. “No two individuals can be brothers for thousands of years.”

“Nonsense,” Hadrian shut down, making a warning grumble when he heard Auron’s mere inhale to say something else. “Time won't ever mean anything for us. We may be long dead, but that won't change our relationship. For the last time, because I'm not ever revisiting this conversation, we’ll be brothers until the end of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well he's not wrong. They will be brothers for thousands of years huhuhu. Foreshadowing is fun af when you already know what's going to happen. You have no idea how funny it was when I dropped hints real time and nobody got it—I felt alone in the world haha. Now it's like you're in my head at the time I wrote the first three books. This is exactly how I felt knowing everything...what a burden that was lol.


	3. The Mouth of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *can't speak cuz I'm still cleansing my soul of 2017* it requires my every speck of attention.

*Three years later*

 

“Is he acting up again?” Antinous asked, startling Hadrian out of his dazed staring contest with the gigantic tree root coiling up and over his shoulder.

Over the last three years, Hadrian had begun to make his way to this thickly-rooted oak tree whenever he had stress to work out and file away, and Antinous (the closest childhood friend he had besides his brother), after accidentally finding him there once, had known it was always where he could find him if he went missing.

It eventually became their secret spot since it was outside the walls of the city, too obscure to be considered a place to think of checking, and the time they’d spent together had made both their twelve-year-old hearts grow increasingly fond of one another—so much so Hadrian planned to confess his love (which would surely grow over the next few years) when the time was right.

But that wouldn’t be any time soon. “How do you always know when it’s that?” he asked, pulling his ankles toward his body to sit with crossed legs.

“It’s an easy distinction—all in your eyebrows,” Antinous said, making a deep line of thought with his own to apparently show Hadrian what he looked like, but he couldn’t do it without breaking out in a smile.

“I’ll have to train my eyebrows how to lie, then,” Hadrian sighed, hitting his head against the back of the tree and beckoning Antinous closer. It felt wrong to have him standing so far away.

Antinous smiled and a tiny chuckle released from his nose, carefully stepping over the white flowers that covered the ground to take a seat on the strongest oak root that Hadrian had been leaning ever so heavily against. Once seated, he gazed down at his slouching friend, who had his eyes closed in peace-shelled chaos, and gently poked him with his sandled foot. “Hey.”

“Hm,” Hadrian puffed, only opening one eye and glancing up at his best friend before closing it again. “Yes, Auron is going through yet another ending of this world in his head, and I can’t fucking deal with it right now—not with my father’s illness. I hate saying things like this, but I don’t have room for Auron right now,” he said with a crushing weight of regret.

He felt gross every time he said something like that, but after three years of Auron’s declining mental health—the horrors that time span had wreaked—he was close to desensitized to it. He didn’t mean to be, but it was hard and taxing to put the exact same amount of passion into the next reaction as the last. Everything was and had been out of his control the entire time, and grieving over the injustice of it all would eat away at him until he was merely bones.

He’d never even gotten the chance to fight for Auron’s case; his parents had gone against his wishes and spoken with Trajan the very next morning after the second attack, and Trajan had renamed his successor to be _him_ as expected, and that had been that.

Auron had taken to it just fine in the beginning, but after seeing how easily he was cast aside by society, and how quickly and wholeheartedly Hadrian was accepted and revered, their relationship had grown polluted with a sick and dense stain that didn’t presently feel like it would ever be cleansed. His worsening heart had cracked a bit deeper each time Auron had vented his frustrations and resentment to him over the faultless situation, so he’d consequently given it to Antinous instead before it irreversibly shattered. So far so good.

His close relationship to Antinous may be making the Auron forgiveness front even bleaker, but what could he do? He was above begging for Auron to come back to him—after months of just that to little avail, pride had been forced to step in. He is an Emperor in training, after all. Emperors don’t beg.

“...Wow, it must be really bad,” Antinous said, breaking Hadrian from his rapid-fire thoughts and tuning him back into the outside world.

“You’d said something, hadn’t you?” Hadrian guessed, accounting for his frequent tendency to miss entire conversations because he’d spent a majority of them somewhere else.

“Yeah, but it matters not. What matters is turning your face into a smiling one, rather than one of sorrow,” Antinous whined, hopping off the root to take a seat in front of Hadrian and grab onto his knees. “Are you worried he’ll run off again?”

Hadrian shrugged. He hadn’t given that much of a thought because Auron running away and disappearing for a week here and there had long since stop bothering him. In fact, sometimes it was just a tad _better_ that way, considering no one in the Aelius household had to walk on eggshells, fearfully anticipating the next eruption of the eldest child. _Auree, what’s happened to us?_

“To be completely honest, I’m more afraid when he is here. He almost killed that servant last time,” Antinous recalled with a shudder, still waking up in a fright every once in awhile from the memory of Auron’s hands wrapped around that poor woman’s neck. He’d been in a bad mood and she’d accidentally stepped on his foot; hardly cause to resort to attempted murder, but that was the kind of unhinged person Auron was these days.

He shuddered with more force when he remembered how close of a call it had been when Hadrian had finally got him off of her. He really had tried to kill her. They hadn’t extensively spoken about it since, and no one else knew. But when would Auron take things too far; to a point of no return?

What if he wasn’t alone the next time? What if he was tried and sentenced for unspeakable crimes? Surely Hadrian would fall into irreparable despair, and Antinous doubted he’d do much good once it set in—there _had_ to be a way to keep Auron’s violent illness in check. There just had to.

“Let’s not talk of my brother,” Hadrian said, taking Antinous’s hands and lacing their fingers together out of a basic need for touch. “Your hair keeps flattening,” he said out of nowhere, inspecting the locks of brown hair that used to be somewhat curly in his youth, but had now smoothed out and relaxed into fine instrument strings with the tiniest of waves left in them.

“I suspect it will be completely straight by the time I’m an adult. I was told my father experienced the same change in his own hair,” Antinous said, more than willing to divert the subject from the black pit of Auron to a superficial back-and-forth about hair. He would have paid in whatever necessary to do it anyway if much longer had gone on.

“You’ll look good with it—though you’d look good no matter what you did, or what changed,” Hadrian said, trying his hand at very subtle flirting because he’d been increasingly intrigued and drawn to that kind of behavior. He was twelve years of age, after all, so it didn’t strike him as unexpected. Only three more ages until he was an adult...that was actually terrifying when he thought about it.

“Aelius Hadrianus, my word, it’s like I’m the maiden of your most private desires,” Antinous laughed, raising his hands from Hadrian’s knees and lightly shoving at his chest.

“Hardly,” Hadrian snorted, getting up and wobbling a bit from the sudden head rush as he stretched his spine every which way. “I don’t have much experience, but I have the strongest suspicion I won’t be fancying many _maidens_ in this life,” he said with a wink, looking away from Antinous’s face when his cheeks began to blush to save him the embarrassment.

“You’re a boy who knows what he wants—only a fool who knew nothing of you would say otherwise,” Antinous said with a poorly-done ‘natural’ cough, standing up as well and distancing himself a safe measure away from Hadrian before he did something neither of them were remotely ready for.

“Do I really know what I want, though?” Hadrian mumbled, staring off into space again while he pondered the vast incorporations of a theory like that.

“Even if you don’t know now, you will when you need to,” Antinous said confidently, taking the time to redo the strings of his sandals before making the journey back into the city. “You debate yourself without stop; always wondering what the right course and path is for you to take; but whenever you need to make a split decision in the moment, you automatically know exactly which choice the _correct_ one was. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, your gut instinct. It could save the world one day.”

“You know me well. You recite things to me that I don’t verbally express,” Hadrian said, wondering if Antinous’s advanced teachings with his well-educated mentor had done him so well that he could now read minds from every bit of movement a body could make. That was the undeniable psychological conclusion—what the body did when the brain was thinking, not what the mouth spoke.

“The day you need to tell me things I don’t already know about your feelings is the day I am too old and frail to lift my own spoon,” Antinous said, stepping forward and linking his arm with Hadrian’s.

“What would I be without you at my side?” Hadrian asked, tilting his head down to lay it atop Antinous’s for just a moment of peace as they walked.

“You’ll never need to wonder such things, Hadrian,” Antinous asserted, glancing up when Hadrian straightened and looking away with a smile when their eyes met. “Because I won’t ever leave your side.”

  


~~~

  


Upon returning to the city, Antinous and Hadrian heard the screams first, saw the mayhem second, but neither knew what to make of it, so they grabbed the first running person they saw by the elbow and pulled them from the herd.

“What is this? What’s happening?” Hadrian demanded, eyes scanning the market in case the answer was already staring him in the face. It wasn’t, though—only proof here was chaos.

“S-s-savages!” the man blurted, his wide and teary eyes locked onto Hadrian’s, probably debating if he was who he thought he was, but there was no time for introductions. “Savages!”

“Where!” Antinous barked, taking a defensive stance against Hadrian’s back to fend off potential threats. They probably didn’t look all that powerful at their age, and maybe they weren’t, but Antinous could still give his life to save Hadrian’s. He’d do that anytime at a second’s notice.

“F-from the west! They killed my—and the fires!” the man wailed, tripping over his feet in an effort to get away.

Hadrian didn’t keep him any longer and let go of his arm, watching him stagger back into the thick line of villagers that were determined to get as far away as they could from the broad location of ‘west.’ Now the pair stood basically alone, both minds working overtime to think up the best plan of action for the time being.

“I don’t smell any smoke—he said fires?” Antinous asked, sniffing hard and jumping to try and see further into the city but it was no use. “Do you see anything?”

Hadrian looked over his shoulder at the Aurelian wall that guarded the city and pursed his lips, turning back around to search the ground for nearby rope. “No, but I think I can,” he grunted, jogging through the dust tornado on the path to a bucket he’d spotted with a needed coil of rope inside.

He took it back with him and fashioned a loop with one end, using every lesson he’d had concerning accuracy to remind himself how to actually do this correctly. He stepped back and spun the looped end, throwing it up toward the one spot with two cracks splitting down the stone to hopefully have it catch—and it actually worked.

“I did it?” Hadrian asked himself, tugging down on the rope to make sure it wouldn’t come loose and then grinning at Antinous, even in these trying times when they had no idea what the state of their city was.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m so obsessed with you,” Antinous said, sighing while Hadrian impulsively walked up the wall to reach the top. “And then you do something like this, and I remember…”

Hadrian knew Antinous had said something but he didn’t have the time to respond. He scrambled up the last few steps to the top and swung his leg over the ledge, hoisting himself up until he was precariously stood on the wall high above ground and tried to get a good look into the city—that’s of course when he saw it.

“Anything?” Antinous called up from below, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand to try and see Hadrian’s facial expression. Even from here he could tell it didn’t look too good.

“Antinous…” Hadrian said, leaving him hanging as he squinted his eyes to double-check if the plumes of smoke were coming from where they thought they were...which happened to be the precise direction that his house was in.

He made a visual sweep over everywhere else and saw faint shadows of soldiers and civilians alike running either to or from disaster, and something about his elevation caused sounds he couldn’t hear on the ground to reach him much too clearly—cries. Cries from not just the entrance to the city, but from everywhere. Rome was indisputably under attack.

“Hadrian!” Antinous shouted, having lost a twinge of his patience after being ignored.

“Antinous—we have to get to my house,” Hadrian said, breaking out of his shocked stature and gracefully swinging himself back down to cascade the wall _without_ shredding his palms to pieces.

“What? What’s happening at your…” Antinous trailed, shutting up when Hadrian grabbed his hand and began to sprint into the city, leaving him no choice but to follow. “Can you—ah!” he cried, dodging a table covered in bowls and plates when it toppled over at the hands of a panicking citizen who wasn’t looking where he was going.

“Are you okay?” Hadrian took the time to ask, whirling around and yanking him forward just as the ceramic items erupted into broken shards where his feet had been.

Antinous could have been dying of a wound to the gut, but even then if Hadrian pulled him into his chest and asked if he was okay, he’d say he’d never been better. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered, studying the wild and desperate look in Hadrian’s eyes and aching to know what it meant. What had he seen?

“Alright, come on,” Hadrian said with a few initiating nods, starting up the sprint again and weaving like a snake through the crowds that were desperately fleeing the complete opposite direction.

Antinous held on for dear life as he was dragged through waves of people, focusing on just keeping a tight grip on Hadrian’s hand as he slid out of oncomers’ paths. He had an inkling that maybe Hadrian would stop and go back for him if their contact broke, but an even stronger suspicion that he wouldn’t.

“Antinous, get down!” Hadrian yelled frantically, leaping back toward him and tackling him to the ground just as they’d left the mouth of the alleyway.

“Hadr—” Antinous yelped, landing with a thud and grasping the front folds of Hadrian’s tunic as he cluelessly wondered why he was all of a sudden in such a protective barrier. A few wet coughs from somewhere behind them perked his ears and he bent his neck back to search for the sound, gasping when he saw a man mere steps behind them with a dagger in his torso and blood dripping down his chin.

Hadrian looked up as well and gritted his teeth in anger, watching the man stumble and keel over sideways for his death before spinning around to find that barbarian attacker, and maybe if he was lucky, avenge his innocent Roman. “Savage!” he growled, getting the man’s attention (because apparently he’d lost it) and quickly scoping for a weapon.

“Hadrian? Hadrian, don’t—” Antinous begged, squeezing his eyes shut when Hadrian decided he had to pull the dagger from the poor corpse’s stomach unless he wanted to go in via fistfight. “Don’t you dare.”

“Stay here,” Harian ordered, running out into the unrecognizable courtyard to confront the rather beefy enemy.

“Killing a child wouldn’t even be fun,” the man laughed, his eyes lingering on the bloodied dagger in amusement before meeting Hadrian’s fierce glare. “You’re a scary one, though, I’ll give you that. Was that your dear old man?” he taunted, pointing his sword back through the alleyway at the unnamed body sprawled out in the dust.

“And if it was?” Hadrian taunted, letting the attacker think whatever he wanted so long as he didn’t catch on to Hadrian’s true identity.

“Then I’ll give you the honour of following in his footsteps one last time,” the man snarled, lifting his sword at a combative angle and running forward with an inhuman growl that didn’t phase Hadrian a bit.

Hadrian swept to the side and slid through the loose pebbles that littered the ground, ducking right under the man’s swing and wrenching his right arm over to slice somewhere near the backs of his enemy’s ankles. He would have known that he’d hit his mark _without_ the loud squeal of torment, but the sound was a very appreciated audible confirmation, and he couldn’t stop the menacing smile that cut across his lips.

He turned like a spinning top to investigate the damage and saw the man in a fetal-like arched kneel, his sword lying vulnerably a few steps away from him while both hands gripped identical bloody messes just above his ankles. “Damn,” he said, wiping his nose with his forearm while he looked around to make sure sneak attacks weren’t in the making. “I aimed too high.”

“You swine!” the man gurgled, gritting his teeth and essentially screaming into the void over his loss.

“Yeah?” Hadrian laughed, tossing his sword up in the air and catching its handle to hold it tip-side-down while he approached the turtle of an enemy. “Get out of my city,” he bit, using his second hand to steady the sword as he plunged it down through the back of the man’s neck. He honestly would have left him alive if he’d hit his mark correctly, but it wasn’t a bad enough wound to bet ‘unmendable.’

Another few wet coughs and gasps rang through the air until all the muscle twitching ceased, but once it did, Hadrian came back to himself and his mission, yanking his sword out and dashing back into the alley to collect Antinous and continue on. “Are you okay?” he asked as he knelt beside him, holding his face in his left hand and wiping a single tear before helping him up.

“I am, but I don’t know why this is happening. Where are the soldiers?” Antinous asked, lost on why the streets were only filled with citizens and merchants fighting back, versus the military, who _should_ be dispatched all over this area.

“If they’re not here, then there’s trouble at Palatine,” Hadrian surmised, sending quick prayers to Jupiter to keep all his mentors and trainers in one piece so he could keep growing strong enough to defend his city from disasters like this in the future. Without them, he was as good as Slashed-Ankle-Man. “Come on,” he urged, realizing they’d stalled possibly a bit too long and pulling Antinous forward while he ran through the courtyard to take cover in the next alley to wait for opportune crossing moments, and repeat that cycle until he was home.

It was during the fifth courtyard run-across when trouble arose again, but this time Hadrian wasn’t the one to notice it—Antinous was.

“Hadrian, get down!” Antinous cried in a panic much like Hadrian had earlier, flying forward and taking Hadrian down in a protective tackle, just as the dagger that had been soaring toward them collided with a stone pillar, sending marble dust down to trickle upon their clothing.

Hadrian grunted from the force of being pummeled into the ground and stretched his neck sideways to get a glance at where the weapon had been thrown from, quickly rolling Antinous off of him and leaping to his feet to go cut the man down before he could harm anyone (possibly anyone _else_ ).

He dragged the tip of his sword through the ground as he ran, letting out a battle roar and slashing across the man’s chest and torso before he could retrieve whatever secondary weapon he was obviously fishing around his lower back for.

Just as he turned to beckon Antinous to him, his peripherals caught a fresh batch of enemies sprinting onto the scene and he stayed put, gulping as he did a headcount and realized he was greatly incapable of defeating them all by himself. “Jupiter,” he muttered, studying their tunics as they approached and trying to figure out where they were from. He couldn’t be sure, but they almost looked like the Celtic Gauls, which would be an extremely brave move for them right now, but it would make the most sense.

“Antinous, run!” he called, taking a deep breath and steadying his sword, preparing himself for the honourable death he was about to experience for the sake of his country—he couldn’t ask for a better demise, but he’d be lying if he said the time was a shame.

“No,” Antinous refused, suddenly right beside him with the previous enemy’s dagger firmly clenched in his fist. Antinous wasn’t on the strong side of Roman youth compared to his peers, and he couldn’t wield swords like Hadrian could, but he was fast on his feet and had a pretty good eye for opportunities. In other words, daggers were ideal, and now he had one. He wasn’t going anywhere. “You go.”

“Antinous…” Hadrian said, trying to stand in front of Antinous as the current group of enemies finally arrived and made a crescent half-circle around them.

“Go home, H!” Antinous demanded, forcing his leg in front of Hadrian’s to get himself in front instead.

“I’m not leaving you!” Hadrian cried, jolting when footsteps suddenly covered all the space behind them. Both boys spun around in shock, but were all too relieved to discover it was a hearty gathering of their own forces, who could not have come at a better time. 

“Then leave us,” the frontman said, nodding at Hadrian and cocking his head toward the Imperial Palace, where the Aelius household stood close to.

“Come on,” Hadrian said to Antinous, deciding now was not the time to add anything else or thank the newcomers, or ask if they were sure, or anything else stupid and pointless like that.

“No, H. Just go... GO!” Antinous nearly shrieked, enraged when Hadrian didn’t budge and physically kicking him in the right direction. “I’ll be fine, go!”

Hadrian grimaced and got his last looks at his beloved best friend, nodding with glassy eyes and running two steps backward before fully turning around and heading off to his domus, never looking back even though he hated himself for it.

He had to trust in Antinous’s decision; in his ability to hold enemies at bay; even if the odds were low that he could get by unscathed. _Be careful_ , he thought to his wonderful Antinous, swallowing all emotion and getting himself back into fight-mode because he highly doubted he could take any manner of break yet.

He ran through two more open courtyards like the nearby fires were under his feet, only slaying two and a half more assumed Gauls before making the sharp left he needed to use the shortcut home. He says ‘two _and a half_ ’ because the third was struck with a fatal wound, but Hadrian hadn’t actually witnessed him die...so he couldn’t count it.

There were far less enemies this way through the narrow alleys he was coursing, but the body count was actually higher, which meant the military had long since sweeped this part of the city, and he was eternally grateful for that ease of passage. Jupiter knew he didn’t need unending squads popping up out of nowhere now that he was truly alone.

The stench of blood, metal, scorch, and rot filled his nostrils like a plague, forcing him to cover his nose and mouth as he ran so he wouldn’t stop to vomit. Screams and clashes of swords still rang out clear as the sky _beyond_ the smoke-riddled atmosphere, but the new sounds as he closed more distance began to take precedence—the roar and crackling of the fires.

As the sound grew louder, the quality of the air decreased significantly, and it wasn’t long until he was hacking and coughing on the thick tendrils of the fire’s breath. The fear in his heart reached a precipice as he came upon the last twisted turn through the back-alleys, and he halted at once before he rounded the corner, turning his face skyward and whimpering in fright because the largest, most menacing billow of black smoke in his present view was rising right above what he knew—just knew—to be his home. 

He held a hand over his chest and wiped at his stinging eyes, taking a shuddered inhale and holding it for all it was worth, then leaped into the open path, losing that carefully-constructed breath in an instant because it was one thing to know you were right about something horrific...it was another thing to see it right in front of you.

“No,” he choked, dropping his sword without a thought and stumbling toward the heartbreaking sight of his home, his life, helplessly overtaken by invincible orange licks of flame that Pluto himself could not recreate with such grand density. His home was a shell; burnt to a black skeleton of itself; and no architect could ever hope to repair it as is, but that was the last thing Hadrian cared about.

The first thing was his family.

“Mother!” he bellowed at the beast before him, begging it to open its incendiary jaws and release whatever precious prisoners it held. “Father?!” he tried next, fighting against his body’s desire to run in the opposite direction and walking even closer to the skin-boiling heat brewing from within. “Auron!”

He reached the front admittedly pointless thin door and beat against it repeatedly, screaming without much coherence and coughing with every breath as he tried to get in the only way he could see wouldn’t immediately kill him. He gave that up quickly after many a failure and walked along the side faces of his domus, studying all arched entrances (no luck) and jumping to peer through lookouts, but the drapes which covered them were just as enveloped with angry flares as everything else.

“Someone! Help!” he howled as he returned to the front garden, his lungs rattling in protest and vision blurred to an incapacitating degree as he remained in the place that could probably kill him if he stayed any longer. Did he care? No. There was one passing thought where he realized his family may have gotten out, and he was yelling at an empty foundation, but if that were true, why was his heart so close to shattering? Why did he hurt so miserably bad, inside and out?

“Momma!” he shrieked with a newfound energy, tripping over himself back to the front door and kicking it over and over with all his usable might, but his movements were clumsy and unfocused, and he ended up right on his back, staring up at the petrifying monster he grew up in and sobbing even without the physical capacity to do so when the door itself lit up in flames. “Help,” he wheezed, raising a shaky hand up toward the eastern side of the atrium, in other words his parents’ cubicula, and begging the heavens to do something.

_Please. I can’t lose them—not like this. Please...hear me…_

His world began to darken, probably from lack of everything healthy around him, and he accepted his pitiful fate, getting the inkling it meant death and reconciling that with the excuse of ‘at least I tried.’ He kept his gaze on where his parents would most likely be for as long as he could, knowing if he ever did wake back up after this, he would miss them until the impossible deaths of the Gods.

He thought he might have heard someone yelling for him, but as his reaching hand lifelessly dropped to his side, the time really came, and he lost whatever knowledge he had on that fact, succumbing to whatever afterlife awaited him, and that was that.

_“Mother!” Hadrian shouted into the misty world of silver and grey, finding his legs were stuck and would not move him in her direction. “Mother!”_

_His mother slowly turned, as a gathering of fog itself would, and the mist parted to reveal his father right beside her._

_“Father!” he called in surprise, reaching his arms as far as they could go and swinging his arms as though he might swim through the colourless air that sought to plant him._

_“Not yet, baby—stay where you are,” Paulina said with a sad shake of her head, drying tears and gripping her husband’s hand, unable to keep from walking backward and furthering herself from Hadrian, whose fruitless attempts to follow were getting desperate._

_“Don’t leave me! Wait!” Hadrian wailed, pulling at his legs with both hands to release his feet but no effort prevailed. “Wait!”_

_“Never stop striving,” his father pleaded, waving in a manner that was far too conclusive for Hadrian’s liking. “Never forget who you are—and what you’re meant to be.”_

_“Father,” Hadrian sobbed, losing his grip in the realm he was trapped in entirely as it, and his parents inside it, began to fade into black. “Come back! Don’t do this! Come b—”_

Hadrian shot back into the world he’d left like an arrow, overcome with an inability to breathe or see, but he knew in general where he was. And he knew what that vision had been. He knew tears were streaming down his face, but he hadn’t the muscles to even open his eyes, much less dab at tears he knew wouldn’t stop anyway. He was on his own now. Forever.

“Hadrian!” a voice boomed anxiously, coming from somewhere right above his face. “Hadrian, please wake up,” it begged, the voice’s owner shaking his shoulders and giving him an even better idea of exactly where he was and how he was positioned—which was apparently somewhat on someone’s lap. “Jupiter, please help him. H!”

The use of the simple ‘H’ told Hadrian everything he needed to know, and as he was mustering up the strength to open his eyes, a jarring amount of water was dumped on his face, and it advanced the waking process to instantaneous. His eyes flew open and he gasped nonstop like the croaks of the dying, trying to hold onto the comfort of being cradled in Antinous’s arms as he cried loudly into his neck.

“Hadrian—I thought I’d lost you,” Antinous whimpered, sniffing hard as he rose from Hadrian’s shoulder and getting a good look into his open eyes. Hadrian went to say something, but he shushed him, scooping water from the bucket he’d somehow acquired and holding a small bowl to Hadrian’s mouth. “Just drink this,” he ordered, holding the back of Hadrian’s head and helping to ease the water down his throat.

Hadrian took two sizeable gulps before the water got stuck somewhere, and then he was coughing and spitting to the side, shuddering and shaking while Antinous whined and stroked his damp hair. “Hadrian, what were you _thinking_? Were you really gonna leave me like that?” he cried, holding him tighter and almost rocking back and forth from the intensity of his relief.

Hadrian groaned and grunted from the pain that wracked his whole body, looking around them to get a sense on their location, but the only things he could decipher were the traits ‘narrow alley’ and ‘decently far from the smoky air.’ His tears sprung back up again and he curled into the only source of consolation he had left, trying to make room in his cooked throat for words but it was a difficult task when so much else wanted to fill the space. “They’re...gone,” he managed, coughing some more and then merely repeating the same phrase when he found the chance.

“I’m so sorry, Hadrian. I’m so sorry,” Antinous said, at a loss for anything else in the world he could say at a time like this. “I’m so sorry.”

Hadrian squeezed his eyes shut and cried harder, now officially broken since he hadn’t received an immediate reply of, “No they’re not.” It was real now. It was all real. He’d been orphaned. Did he even still have Auron? Was Auron still missing? Had he come home? He didn’t even remember if Auron had still been in foreign land, or if he’d returned, and he didn’t have the energy to ask either. He would just have to wait and see...what was there left in the world to wait for, though? Being Emperor? Was that still important? How could it be…

In a flash faster than a blink could take place, thunder cracked across the newly-formed clouds, and rain like he’d never seen before pelted down on the city, proving the Gods were merciful at best, but not to his surprise, laughably late. “Do you think this makes up for it?!” he bellowed to the sky, hacking up the taste of singed blood from the force and resuming as though it hadn’t happened. “Do you think this is enough?!”

“Hadrian,” Antinous breathed with a voice coated in sympathy, hoping to steer Hadrian off the track of cursing the Gods lest he get cursed himself. “Look at me.”

Hadrian looked, out of anger if nothing else, but the look on Antinous’s face splashed the anger away, much like the current Olympian rain upon Rome’s fires (yes, there had been multiple, though he hadn’t the mind to care about the others at the time), and his face lost its rage, melting to calm curiosity instead.

Antinous’s hand rose to Hadrian’s cheek, and his eyes flicked between both of the green ones in their field, biting his lower lip in contemplation and appearing very unsure of something Hadrian didn’t even have the will to guess.

“Antinous—” Hadrian whispered, getting his sentence shockingly cut off with a kiss he never would have seen coming if he was in the _rightest_ of minds. His eyes stayed wide open at first, even if the rain annoyed them to no end, because processing this joining of lips was proving to be in the range of impossible, but seeing how heavy Antinous’s emotions were in his troubled eyebrows awakened his own treasured love, and his eyes closed of their own volition. A moment of bliss in this chaos may not have been something he felt like he deserved, but he wasn’t going to deny it.

He lifted his hand and weaved his fingers into Antinous’s drenched hair, holding him right where he was and documenting every detail of this moment into his thoughts, digging out a permanent spot in his memories to have this sit forever, until long after his own death. Even though they were young, certainly inexperienced, and undeniably naïve to certain ways the world worked, they’d both known for a while what it felt like to be around each other, and that feeling was generally referred to as ‘whole.’

Their tears mixed together on Hadrian’s cheeks, unable to differentiate, and when they’d both gotten what they needed from the unexpected kiss, they eased apart, establishing prompt eye contact to silently speak about what had just happened while they waited for the courage to use words.

The gnawing pain of today fell back down on Hadrian like it was in every drop of rain, but somehow, lost in Antinous’s eyes, he could only _just_ hold it at bay...and accounting the gravity of the anguish in his heart, that was enough. He surrendered to Antinous’s gaze like it in itself was his guardian, seeking a solace that was a lot to ask for, but Antinous met that task with every fibre of himself he could give.

“Antinous,” Hadrian said simply, smiling weakly when Antinous fitted his hand over Hadrian’s that was still in his hair.

“Use me—for everything and anything you need for the rest of our lives,” Antinous said, not even a hint of second thoughts in his demeanor. He knew what he wanted out of life, and it was the shivering boy in his arms—and he’d known that for a while now. “I will live for you...and only you.”

“Antinous,” Hadrian repeated, only a tad ashamed he couldn’t offer all the words he knew he had in him, but if Antinous was as serious as he thought he was, he knew he’d have time later. For now, a powerful surge of exhaustion swept over him, and his hand began to fall as his muscles numbed, caught at the last second by Antinous and softly lowered to his own chest.

He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle, and before he knew it, his consciousness slipped out from under him like a pulled rug—he could only hope the celestial beauty of Antinous’s smile as a last sight would bring him pleasant dreams, far away from the nightmare of the real world for just a while. Just a while was all he asked; he could (and would have to) deal with reality later. He just needed a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally everyone knows who set that fire. I mean not Rome, but you certainly do.


	4. Smirks Behind Backs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god. My life consists of studying Korean, and that's it. I'm terribly sorry, but I literally study from like 8pm to 7am and it just doesn't leave much room for writing. That said, I obviously understand this is a duty and priority of mine, but by the time I'm done with all the mock exams and lessons, I just want to sleep. I'm gonna take a break pretty soon and get back to more of this, but yeah, just thought I'd let you know what I've been doing. It's verrry hard to focus on anything else; nearly impossible. I regularly just turn off my phone or throw it across the room if someone tries to call me during studying lol. It's a space which nothing can enter. Well, anyway, I'm halfway through the next chapter regardless, so once I get that done, I'll throw it out. Sorry once again for making readers wait, I never wanted to be this kind of writer. 
> 
> This...might be the last story I do. If not the last period, the last for a very very long time.  
> I thought you should know that :/ 
> 
> Maybe I've just gotten burned out, but all the passion I used to have for it is pretty hard to find these days. I think I was just put here in this fandom to write Love Endless. That was my purpose. And once I've done that, I think my work is done. Everything preceding it was just leading up to it. This was a big part of my life last year, and it was very important to me, and it's gonna be it. I really do think that. I don't wanna set false alarms, but I'm pretty confident in that assumption. 
> 
> So...we'll see, but thanks for everything you've given me, and I swear to fuck I will finish this god damn book.

“Any change?” Hadrian heard a voice ask, accompanied by several footsteps and the setting down of some kind of item on a table near his head.

“No,” a deeper voice answered, sighing after the negation and giving off the impression of woe.

Hadrian knew staying still would only further his visitors’ concern, but when he tried to fully wake himself up, he found out pretty quick that all his muscles had gone on strike. His throat still felt like it was passing tiny blades in and out with every breath, his lungs were clenching and stinging with a dull yet ever-present ache, and his skin felt much too sensitive, as though he had contracted a foe of a sunburn that he’d have for the rest of his life. Not too great.

Even still, he attempted the very movements that would alert his company of his state of mind, going for hand and finger twitches, but when that didn’t seem to do the trick (possibly because no eyes were on him), he jumped to audible methods, grimacing as he cleared his throat because _wow_ did that hurt.

“Hadrian!” the higher voice, which Hadrian now knew belonged to Antinous, gasped, footsteps leading him up to the bed where he sat down and took ahold of his nearest hand.

“Mm,” Hadrian groaned in response, squeezing the hand he was suddenly holding like a lifeline for it was the only one that could drag him straight from the pit of the Underworld. Or, more simply, give him the will to leave an apparent coma.

“Can you open your eyes?” Antinous asked, petting Hadrian’s hair and leaving his hand on his forehead for what felt like a curious temperature check. “Are you okay?”

In spite of everything that Hadrian had to whine about, Hadrian found himself chuckling instead, forcing his eyes open to gaze into Antinous’s, which were predictably welled with tears—but hopefully ones of joy. “‘Am I okay,’” he repeated with a snort, grunting in pain as he tried to sit and allowing the immediate help that Antinous offered to lean him up against the back wall.

“What else should I be asking right now?” Antinous asked, concern painted over his every feature while he looked all of Hadrian up and down to assess his status.

“It’s _me_ that shou—ah, fuck,” Hadrian coughed, wheezing like a poorly-made flute and hacking behind his fist as Antinous rhythmically patted his back.

“Just take it easy,” Antinous murmured, turning the pats into circular rubs while they waited out the coughing fit.

Once Hadrian’s lungs were temporarily freed, he gave a careful sigh and roughly slammed his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling in contempt and slowly shaking his head. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. Had he really lost his parents? Was Rome okay? He had a lot of questions for the aftermath he’d missed out on, but the urge to actually address any of them was on the doorstep of nonexistent.

He wondered how long he could live in denial before someone gave him the lowdown, but that was answered when Marcius pushed the archway curtain aside and stepped into the room.

“Hadrian—you’re up,” Marcius said with an outward expense of breath, placing his hand on the shoulder of his doctor to prompt his departure from the room.

The unnamed doctor did just that, and Marcius looked to Antinous next, raising his eyebrows and cocking his head to the side to command the same of him, but Antinous had other plans.

“I’m not going any—”

“Antinous,” Hadrian cut in, giving him a loaded look that said they could talk later.

Antinous bit his lip in protest. “But—”

“I’ll be alright,” Hadrian assured, touching his palm to Antinous’s face and lightly pushing him away from that contact until he gave up and backed out with a nod of reluctant understanding.

Marcius watched him go and poked his head through the curtain to make sure the two were actually departing and not just hiding behind the wall, then he sighed and moved toward the bed, taking up the spot Antinous had just left and dropping his hand down on Hadrian’s wrist. “Do you want...I mean, what kind of news should I…” he faltered, losing all the confidence he’d previously had for this conversation before he’d actually been in Hadrian’s presence.

“Just...categorize it yourself,” Hadrian said unhelpfully, too afraid to actually mention his parents and hoping Marcius would just do it anyway.

“Alright,” Marcius agreed, deciding to just let loose on all the pieces of information that were most important to cover at this particular time. “The attack started with the fires, the Gauls invaded afterward through the north-western gate. It’s still unclear what or who exactly started with the fires, but going by the rate of destruction, your home was hit fairly early on. Your parents…” he paused, losing his words from Hadrian’s blank eye contact and hating every second of this confession.

“Marcius,” Hadrian said dispassionately, nodding his head to encourage the worst news he’d probably ever have to hear.

“First off, Auron hasn’t been found. But your parents were both inside, and they didn’t make it,” Marcius said in a rush, gripping Hadrian’s wrist tighter when he merely closed his eyes in sorrow. “But...after the rain put the fires out, and we went to check, we found daggers in both of their chests—so...they died beforehand.”

Hadrian’s eyes snapped open and he sat upright in fast-motion, ignoring every urge he had to cough and piercing Marcius’s eyes with his own, which probably looked as manic as Auron’s could. “They were murdered!” he spat in shock, going over that fact and how different the situation now was. This changed a lot. “Who...what…”

“We have no idea. The Gauls are a good enemy to pin it on, but they were so specifically targeted, so there’s holes in that theory. That will be the official conclusion, so be careful how you approach this, but I’m telling you right now, since you deserve to know, I’m skeptical,” Marcius said quietly, the lines in his forehead proving he’d been agonizing over this since he became aware of it.

Hadrian didn’t have much to say; his mind and thoughts were in more turmoil than his body had been in front of his engulfed domus, and though his current emotional blockage was fairly impressive, he didn’t know how long it would last, or what would set it off. Best to stay silent at a crossroads like that.

Marcius knew that Hadrian’s inner thoughts would be a downright mess, so he jumped right into other random facts he could supply, hoping Hadrian was paying enough attention to somewhat take them in. “You’ve been asleep for two days, Auron still hasn’t returned, the city is still being mended from the damage, nearly all our enemies were slayed trying to escape, we suffered twenty three lives lost, and Trajan has officially adopted you and your brother. You’re to move into Palatine Hill when you are recovered, and Auron will have to be sat down and briefed on this when and if he returns,” he finished, rethinking everything he knew and making sure he hadn’t missed anything crucial.

“He’ll be back,” Hadrian said surely, fearing that return more than the prospect of never seeing him again because how could he possibly fill his twin on something like that? What would his reaction be? That could be the thing to truly do him in...it was best he stayed away. “Did you say adoption?” he asked from his belated comprehension.

“Yeah, of course. You’re next in line to the throne. Without your parents, Palatine would inevitably take you in,” Marcius said, setting aside his tough soldier front and pulling Hadrian in for a hug. “For what it’s worth, Hadrian, words can’t express my grief for you,” he said onto the top of his pupil’s head, pretending not to notice the small shudder through Hadrian’s spine that hinted at falling tears.

Hadrian clenched his fist around the fabric of Maricus’s tunic at his chest, lightly beating his forehead just under his mentor’s collarbones while he fought against the especially loud sobs he needed to let out.

“It’s okay, Hadrianus,” Marcius said, petting the nape of his neck and experiencing some lip trembles of his own. “I’m sorry Rome couldn’t protect your parents. I’m sorry Rome failed you,” he said sincerely, able to admit when his great Empire had fallen short on expectations.

“It’s not Rome,” Hadrian said at once, the ingrained, undying love for his homeland making an appearance to release it of all accountability. “But someone in here has a deathwish for me to grant. I swear here and now, with you as my witness, that whoever ended the lives of my mother and father will die by my hands. I will take a dagger, and I will stab them straight in the skull,” he snarled, wrenching away from Marcius because he was now fuming with anger, and anger did not need nor wish to be consoled.

“I offer my strength to ensure you see your revenge,” Marcius pledged, sensing the visitation time was just about up and rising onto his feet. He then did something that came quite naturally, surprising or not, and knelt on one knee, crossing his right fist over his heart and bowing his head. “By the Roman blood in me, they will pay for what they have done.”

Hadrian grunted in acceptance and continued to marinate in rage, barely noticing when Marcius took his leave and certainly not when Antinous crept up to the curtain and peeked inside. He felt like hot water just before it bubbled, and his limbs were on the convulsing side of shaking, his breathing labored like steam, and he was about to erupt like Vesuvius had when he was three years old. Everything in his path was Pompeii.

Taking advantage of an energy surge that couldn’t have come at a more useful time, Hadrian leapt out of bed, grabbing the first thing he could (a bowl of water for either drinking or cleaning, he couldn’t tell) and chucking it at the opposite wall with a mighty roar, watching and listening to the satisfying outcome of its magnificent shattering.

He then took the wooden stand it had come from and lifted it high above his head, swinging his arms down toward the floor and smashing it in half, continuing to demolish its pieces until all that remained was stakes and splinters.

He then took those remnants and threw them aimlessly about the room, creating quite the scene luckily without an audience, but he doubted his feral screams weren’t reaching nearby ears. Whatever. Let all be witness to his rage—when he was Emperor, these kind of episodes would instill terror into battle heroes anyway. He couldn’t wait for all to cower from his wrath. He couldn’t wait to dismember every enemy he ever made from here on out. He couldn’t wait to—

“Hadrian!” a voice cried out in anguish, startling him with its proximity, but before he could turn, two arms wound around his torso and constricted the majority of his mobility.

“Get off me!” he growled, throwing his weight backward and wrestling as he stood with this random intruder.

“H!” Antinous yelled again, at least getting Hadrian to stop now that he knew who was touching him. “Hadrian…” he sobbed without a proper point to make, not wanting to tell him to stop, or console him either, so he was stuck. What was he trying to accomplish here? Why had he run in and not just stayed where he was? What could he possibly hope to offer? He didn’t know any of the answers; he just knew he couldn’t stand there and watch this unfold.

Hadrian lost all the strength in his legs and all the pain his adrenaline had set aside began to crawl back through his body, bluntly reminding him of his damaged lungs and aching skin. He relinquished the rage for now and groaned in disappointment, stumbling and toppling down to the ground with Antinous struggling to keep up and maintain some order of balance.

In the end, he became a sprawled heap on the ground surrounded by sharp pieces of broken wood, not fighting back at all when Antinous pulled him backward until he was lying back against his chest between his legs. In this position, the mere scent of Antinous did wonders to calm him down completely, and the arms around him felt like a cage of safety from a realm of utter, unstoppable danger.

Funny effect, Antinous had. Though Hadrian would always have to be the one to protect him, for some reason, Antinous still embodied the feelings of safety. Like he had personally fought off every monster in Hadrian’s nightmares since birth; like he’d put a stop to every fall or entanglement before an injury; like he’d been able to halt every tear just before it flowed down to his cheeks. He hadn’t accomplished even one of these three unreasonable concepts, but that obviously wasn’t the point. However unrealistic those scenarios were, the emphasis here was on the realness of his feelings regardless.

And plus, even if Antinous wasn’t prone to being a fierce guardian, he had in fact somehow gotten Hadrian to safety, and most definitely saved his life that day, and that wasn’t something Hadrian or anyone else could ever discredit. Antinous was much more than a safe space now—he was a hero.

“Antinous, you,” Hadrian rasped, twisting up so he could look at his one and only love and savior. “You—it’s you,” he said vaguely specifically, his wide eyes scouring Antinous’s face and taking in the beauty and emotion that gave it such awe-inspiring vibrance.

Antinous couldn’t conjure a reply so he simply nodded, both hands coming up to cradle Hadrian’s head and futilely wipe at his tears. They stayed staring at each other while their tears did the talking for quite some time, documenting the moment however tragic because it was one of those moments in life that would stay in the heart forever.

With that knowledge also came the realization that forever was an entirely unreachable concept, and even the now was uncertain, so they joined their lips as though they were seconds from death, timbering over and winding around each other like vines as they touched and kissed the torment away.

The cold ground couldn’t hold a torch to the heat in their souls, and the thorny wood shards may as well have been petals from the softest of roses. Their salty tears could have been drops from a freshwater lake, and Hadrian would just attribute the heaviness suffocation in his chest to Antinous’s physical weight as he pulled him over to lie on top of him. There. Nothing bad in this world was left for now. Every curse reversed, every death prevented. _Let’s just go with that._

Time, as complicated to understand as it already was, steadily became the world’s greatest wonder, and it could have been minutes or days before they finally pulled apart, but Hadrian only knew he felt like a changed man once they did.

Still on the unforgiving floor, Hadrian floated on his cloud, admiring everything about Antinous he already had been with a passion over these last few years: his big brown eyes with their long lashes, the almost-straight wavy hair, slender nose, his thin but capable lips that met his own full ones like the size difference didn’t exist, the splash of freckles that could only be seen at these kinds of proximities, and his overly expressive brows that defied logic by being so thick but the opposite of a mess. He was the picture of beauty, and Hadrian didn’t know if he truly knew that or not, but he’d spend a long time telling him in case he disagreed. “I’m going to grow old with you.”

Antinous broke out in a grin and chuckled from the forward manner in which Hadrian had professed that, shaking his head and getting out all following bursts of laughter until he was done. “You do know you’ll have to wed a female at some point,” he said, brushing their noses together to steal one more kiss out of greed. A greed he would never apologize for as long as he lived.

“How disappointed she will be when she finds us tangled up in bed together every night,” Hadrian said flippantly, failing to conceal his excitement over how entertaining that would come to be.

“Neither of us know the first thing about bed entanglements,” Antinous pointed out, a blush flying to his cheeks as he really put thought into giving his body over to Hadrian—letting him take it like lovers do.

“Wrong,” Hadrian said with a wink, daring to slide his hands further down Antinous’s back to stop just above his hips. “I know the first thing—it’s everything after that I don’t understand. But we’ll teach each other. I’ll learn you, and you can learn me,” he said, elated over the darkness within him being so brutally overcome by such a glaring light, one only Antinous could ignite.

“Well, I’m not touching another hair on your head until you fully heal,” Antinous muttered, putting his love before his male desires and helping him off the ground to force back in bed.

“Meaningless effort,” Hadrian said, scooting to the far side of the bed after sitting and making it extremely obvious what he wanted to fill the space with. “I can’t physically heal without your touch,” he said, reaching out for Antinous and smiling when he gave in and joined him in bed.

“That is so not true,” Antinous huffed, laying his head down on Hadrian’s chest and letting their legs come together in whatever random twist they were to form.

“Is it not? Do you want to leave then?” Hadrian challenged, forcibly putting Antinous’s head back over his heart when he tried to sit up and banter with him.

“No,” Antinous said bashfully, sighing out all the pent-up stress that had built since hearing the inner-city screams from outside the wall. More stress was sure to come, but that particular one had disintegrated the moment Hadrian said “you,” and now maybe he could the first wink of sleep in two days. “I was already planning to tie myself to your side by the time we’re adults,” he said with a snort, repositioning himself until he felt like he wasn’t putting so much pressure on Hadrian’s healing lungs, “...now I think the Fates got our threads in a knot.”

Hadrian closed his eyes and smiled in genuine peace, rather enjoying the mental image of Nona, Decima, and Morta fussing over how big of an indistinguishable mess their threads had become, inseparably woven just like Hadrian planned their lives to be. “Good luck cutting that, Morta,” he said to the Parcae with the heaviest burden, holding Antinous tighter and inviting any future the Gods had planned so long as he could keep the boy in his arms. “You’ll have to cut us both.”

  


\---

  


“He’s what?” Harry asked as his fork clattered to the dining table, half of his salad tumbling out of his open mouth while he stared blankly at Acilius near the entry to the banquet hall.

“Auron—he’s back,” Acilius repeated, waiting for a reply while Hadrian finally snapped his jaws and swallowed his bite of greens.

“W-where would he be?” Hadrian asked, quickly wiping his mouth and standing up so abruptly that his chair shrieked against the floor.

“With Trajan, if I’m to understand,” Acilius surmised, scratching at his chin and jumping out of the way when Hadrian suddenly trampled his way out of the hall. “Shall I postpone your studies?” he called after him, sighing to himself when he got not a breath of response from Hadrian and his one-track mind. “Take that as a yes.”

Hadrian bounded through the halls of the palace, taking the staircases three steps at a time to reach Trajan’s quarters, where he would then plow through everything until he found them. Now in the right area, it didn’t actually take him as long as he thought it would, for their voices floated through the tablinum clear as the skies outside.

He made sure his footsteps were light and tiptoed to the mesh curtain of the archway, catching his breath in a hurry so he could properly listen. He decided right after that listening only would not suffice, so he carefully pushed the curtain to the side, curling around the corner like a snake around a tree stump to get his brother in his sights, an surreal vision after so much time apart, and what had happened in that meantime.

“Come again?” Auron asked, his voice deeper than Hadrian remembered, his hair longer, body taller. _All in five months?_ he asked himself, shocked how much could change when you weren’t paying attention to it. _Have I grown like this too?_

“I said I was sorry I couldn’t protect them,” Trajan repeated, his hands folded behind his back while he rocked ever so slightly on the balls of his feet, something everyone knew he did when he was nervous.

“If apologies fixed everything, what would we need the military for?” Auron retorted, dropping Hadrian’s mouth open in shock because no one, quite literally no one, would ever speak to the Emperor in such a combative manner.

_Auron, what the—_

“Hmph, now look here,” Trajan grumbled like a bear, meticulously fixing his beard while his eyes narrowed to slits.

“No, I’m sorry—I was out of line,” Auron said with a trembling tone, bowing his head in respect and dabbing at his eyes, but Hadrian knew there were absolutely no tears to dab. And that stopped time for a while as he debated the reason. Auron was putting on a massive front, acting like he was emotional when he wasn’t...but why? _How_? This was about their parents dying—the Gods could not tell Hadrian that Auron didn’t care. Of course he cares...right? _What are you thinking, Auree?_

“It’s alright, son,” Trajan excused, none the wiser concerning Auron’s act but how could he see through it? It was suspiciously well-crafted. Hadrian was most likely the only person who would see it for what it was—call it twin intuition. “This is tough news to bear, and I hate to bestow it...but your brother is perfectly safe,” he said, hoping to steer the mood of the talk and shed some hope on Auron’s ‘sadness.’

“Is he…” Auron said, doing a piss-poor job of showing any glee over that remark with such a monotonous tone.

Apparently it fooled Trajan once again, however, because the old man smiled and gave three mighty pats to Auron’s shoulder. “He’ll be over the moon to hear of your return. I’ll leave you to go find him—you two have much to talk about.”

“We sure do,” Auron said, sneakily removing Trajan’s hand out of irritation and making it look like he was somehow still respecting his Emperor. “I’ll be going then.”

Hadrian controlled the glare he was shooting at his twin and decided now was a good time to take his hasty leave. He didn’t want his brother to know how much he’d heard and seen, and if Auron had no desire to see him, even after all this wait and everything that had happened in his absence, then Hadrian felt quite the same toward him. _Something’s different about you, Auron. More and more, I know you less and less. But this time, it’s really bad...this time...you’re a stranger._

The moment Hadrian was out of range to be easily seen or heard by his brother, he picked up the pace of his escape, sprinting through the halls and looking over his shoulder before he turned any corners just in case. He tried to think of somewhere to go, but he was already headed in the direction of his cubicula, and unless someone specifically pointed Auron the right way, he wouldn’t come any time soon—if he even planned on it at all.

He reached his room at last and snuck through the door like coastal fog, sighing from exertion and flopping down on his bed without looking, but he probably should have.

“Oof!” came a muffled cry, belonging to only one possible individual, since no one else would be in Hadrian’s bed.

“Antinous,” Hadrian chuckled, raising his weight off the lump he’d fallen on and pulling the comforter down to uncover his hidden boyfriend—or at least, what they’d kind of sort of decided upon since the fire attack. They hadn’t like...you know...but someday for sure...just not yet.

“I was sleeping, how dare you,” Antinous mumbled, smiling with tired and squinty eyes as he stretched his back.

“Why are you sleeping in _my_ bed?” Hadrian asked, getting distracted by Antinous’s shirtless self and wondering if everything else was just as bare. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Mehh, I didn’t sleep at all last night, so I figured one day of hooky wouldn’t harm my entire future,” Antinous said, beginning to petulantly pull the cover back up and supposedly go back to sleep but Hadrian wasn’t done.

“You still didn’t answer why you’re playing hooky in my bed,” Hadrian said, keeping one finger clenched around his blanket to leave Antinous visible.

“Because it smells like you,” Antinous said, throwing a bit of attitude into his tone because apparently Hadrian shouldn’t have had to ask that question.

“You drive me crazy,” Harian said fondly, bending down to press a short kiss to Antinous’s lips. Though the moment was another epitome of his daily bliss, he did have things on his mind that weren’t so happy, and he had to let Antinous know now before he got surprised by it later. “Auron’s back.”

The colour drained from Antinous’s face as that name was uttered and he sat up much too quickly, almost causing a face-to-face collision with the wide-eyed Hadrian. “He’s what? He’s back?” he asked, scooting his butt back so he could actually sit without using his hands for leverage.

“Yeah, I saw him with Trajan,” Hadrian said, still in deep thought over that whole strange encounter he’d paid witness too. Was Auron really that cold toward their parents that he wouldn’t shed a single tear over the news of their death? Had he already known? If so, who had told him? Where had he even been? Why wasn’t he rushing to his only brother as he had these thoughts?

“Whoa,” Antinous breathed as Hadrian’s head came crashing down onto his shoulder, trying to get a good look at him but all he could see was curly hair. “You okay?”

“I’m…” Hadrian began, content to hide in Antinous’s neck until tomorrow if it meant not facing anything he probably should.

“Hayway,” Auron’s voice clearly spoke, causing a jolt through Hadrian’s body and a roaring, almost comical gasp from Antinous.

“What do we do?” Antinous whisper-squeaked, his fright leaving him utterly frozen like his skin had developed a thick coating of ice.

Hadrian waited for the telltale sound of his door opening and when it became, he slowly retreated from his comfort zone, moving his eyes like blades of grass in a faint breeze until they locked onto a pair that were all too familiar—all too similar. “Auron,” he said, choosing not to begin the upcoming conversation himself to see what Auron had in store for them.

Auron’s eyes trailed up and down the pair in hatred, noting the lack of clothing on Antinous and the suggestive position of Hadrian hovering above him. Both looked guilty of having been caught in an especially private act, but it was also clear it hadn’t gone that far—so why did they look so afraid? _They should be,_ he said in his head, glad he had such an effect on persons he once claimed friendship with...and even his brother, whom he once worshiped.

“What’s this?” Auron asked, pointing flippantly at Antinous and his twin and scowling at them both when neither responded.

“Antinous, go feed my horse,” Hadrian said, turning Antinous’s eyes to him for the first time since Auron entered the room.

“Go _what_?” Antinous asked, considering the command quite ludicrous given their current stalemate.

“Or water some plants. Go fish, or dust some shelves, whatever, just—” Hadrian huffed without finishing, lightly but pointedly pushing Antinous out of his bed as he rolled his eyes and tossed his tunic to him.

“Ah, okay okay,” Antinous agreed, truthfully overjoyed to get out of this atmosphere but still a bit worried about what he was leaving behind. Would Hadrian really be alright on his own? He’d always been the stronger of the two, so it seemed likely. “Good to—” a quick pause for a heavy throat clearing once he realized he was standing before Auron in only his undergarments, “—see you again, Auron,” he said, holding his tunic to his front as he side-slid his way out the door. Then he was running.

Auron kicked the door closed once he left and spun around to face his brother, who was now sitting innocently off the side of his bed with his hands on his knees. “You know, I was actually excited to see you, Hayway,” he began, crossing the room with slow steps while he kept his clenched fists behind his back. “But you know, I don’t think you missed me at all. You never do anymore,” he accused, leaning against the pillar closest to Hadrian’s bed and giving him the chance to make his notorious excuses.

“Auron,” Hadrian groaned, amazed in the worst kind of way that Auron really wasn’t bringing up their parents just like he suspected he might. “Mother and Father are dead...and you’re lecturing me over having a boy in my bed,” he said darkly, holding onto his temper because that certainly wouldn’t get them anywhere. But his veins were boiling and he could feel his face and ears turning red as he sat impressively still...how long could he keep this up?

“I’m aware. And you’re aware I’m aware; you wouldn’t have been hanging around outside Trajan’s chambers with inattentive ears, now would you?” Auron said, smiling when Hadrian’s head turned straight to him and he stood up in surprise. “Yes, I knew you were there. You think louder than you shout.”

“Then you’d know why I’m not too keen on seeing you right now,” Hadrian said, walking right up to his twin and stopping just before their chests would bump against each other. Same exact height, he could tell now. Same timbre in their voices, too. _I guess I have changed._

“Because I wasn’t wailing like an infant?” Auron guessed with a sickening smile, moving a hand up to Hadrian’s face and brushing his fingertips down his cheek. “What did my parents ever do for me? Was I supposed to be a wreck? Cry and beg the Gods to return them? What undying love should I grant them if I never received it myself?”

“Auron, what are you _talking_ about?” Hadrian breathed, taking Auron’s hand and lacing their fingers together out of old habit. “They loved you—they always loved you!”

“Allow me to enlighten you, _you_ who has the memory and attention span of a _fish_ , on what really happened,” Auron seethed, ripping his hand out of Hadrian’s and pushing past him with a harsh knock of shoulders. “They cast me aside like an old forgotten olive under a table,” he said, ending his stroll at one of Hadrian’s couches and taking an entitled seat. “They saw me as a pest, and sought to exterminate me on many occasions.”

“That’s a lie,” Hadrian said, trying really hard to be convincing even though he knew damn well it was the truth. His parents _had_ sent out that order, but Hadrian had killed the assassin himself before it could be carried out and had his men dump the man’s body in the river Tiber.

He hadn’t been able to comprehend why at the time his parents would ever do something like that, but once he was let in on the recent citizen woundings his brother actually _had_ committed, he’d understood it had been a sort of mercy killing attempt. That never changed their love, and probably hurt them a lot to do, and he’d had resentment over it, but...he’d understood.

“What pride can you possibly have lying like that straight to my face?” Auron growled, leaping up from the couch and running up to Hadrian to grab him by the throat.

“Auron,” Hadrian choked, closing his hand around Auron’s wrist and trying to pry him off.

“You know what else? While you’ve been gallivanting around Rome like the whole world is already in your palm, collecting treasures and bribes for respect and publicly shaming your handful of powerless opposers, the Scribes have _destroyed_ all writings of me they ever made!” Auron bellowed, shoving his twin away with all his might and tutting in disappointment when he heaved and coughed for air. “Rome ate me alive, Hadrian. And now they’re erasing me from history. You tell me what respect I should have for this nation, these people, our parents included. The only thing I love is you, but where have you been? Slowly forgetting about me too,” he said, retaking his seat and brushing his hair from his face.

“Forgetting you—not bloody likely,” Hadrian muttered, taking deep breaths and cursing himself for letting the fire’s smoke wreak such permanent lung damage. It was generally fine to train and practice, but putting pressure on the throat simply made him collapse. One of his only weaknesses.

“Really,” Auron deadpanned, scoffing at the mere notion and gesturing to Hadrian’s unmade bed. “Me, I actually miss you when I’m gone. I miss you all the time. I miss you now, and you’re right before me,” he added, unknowingly showing a great deal of pain in his eyes before it disappeared without a trace. “But you? All you care about is fame, glory, and that wretched Antinous. You cast me away just like the rest of them, yet I catch you in bed with _that_ boy. You _knew_ I was here, you _saw me_ , and I have to come find you in his arms,” he bit, turning away and regathering himself because he was beginning to sound desperate.

“Fine, then what’s your excuse for the way you reacted when you heard I was alive?” Hadrian fired back, knowing it was a pretty logical and inarguable point because they’d both been there and he couldn’t back his way out of it. “You couldn’t have sounded less thrilled.”

“You _brainless swine, I already knew you were there_!” Auron reminded rather loudly, falling back onto the couch and rubbing at his face in irritation before popping back up. “And even if you hadn’t been standing outside like a creep, I already knew you were alive long before I even returned to Rome! I knew of our parents’ death and the Gaul attack before I stepped foot back into the city, he wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know.”

“You knew? How?” Hadrian asked, taken aback by the comment and deciding he’d much rather move the conversation along instead of admitting his earlier argument had a few holes in it.

“Word travels fast, especially a piece of news as big as that. An attack on Rome? That reached practically everywhere within a week,” Auron said, the heat and sharpness of his words dying down into a casual tone because he’d expended enough energy through anger. 

“Where even _were_ you?” Hadrian asked, turning suspicious again and begging to have this years-long mystery solved. “Where do you keep going all the time? Why do you stay for so long? What the fuck are you doing behind Rome’s back? Behind mine? You are so questionable, Auron, I don’t trust you at all,” he said, knowing that last statement was stabbing himself in the foot on rebuilding this relationship but he had to know, and he had to be honest.

“It’s none of your business, Hadrian. You don’t deserve to know a single thing about me,” Auron said coldly, initiating an intense battle of glares in which even blinking felt like a personal loss.

“You’re my twin, Auron. I know a lot,” Hadrian muttered after a cutting period of silence, glaring with all his might and really feeling hurt by that brush-off statement. Didn’t _deserve_ to know? _You slithering snake._

“You know nothing. _Nothing_ of me,” Auron persisted, sacrificing the eye contact contest because he couldn’t bear look at that face a moment longer.

“Whose fault is that?” Hadrian retorted, crossing his arms and looking away as well if Auron was going to be like this.

“It’s— _yours_!” Auron shouted incredulously, bounding over in a second and grabbing both sides of Hadrian’s face, making his lips squish together like a fish as he grumbled in protest. “Everything! Everything under Olympia is _your fault_!”

Hadrian had tolerated more than enough of this treatment so he knocked both of Auron’s hands away and straightened up, considering for a moment that he ought to punch him square in the nose, but then he did something neither had anticipated—he hugged him. For reasons he didn’t understand, he smacked both arms around his brother and held him like none of their dramatics had transpired, and both boys underwent unexpected waves after waves of bliss the longer they stood there.

“I wish I could hate you,” Auron whispered, broadcasting a hearty amount of pain even with such a small voice.

“I love you,” Hadrian replied, refusing to give in to that kind of talk because the opposite felt much better.

“I want so badly to hate you.”

“I love you.”

“If I ever get the chance, I’m going to hate you for all you’re worth.”

“I love you.”

“Jupiter, smite this boy,” Auron sighed, letting his tension melt away like ice in the summer as he finally returned the emotional embrace. “You’ve changed so much, Hayway. I barely know you.”

“You’ve changed too, Auron,” Hadrian said, not allowing that argument to stay against him without reciprocation because that just wasn’t fair. They’d both changed, and they knew it. They’d grown apart, and maybe Hadrian hadn’t been the brother he should have been, but the evil that plagued Auron on a moment’s notice had kept him far away, even side by side.

“I can’t help that,” Auron said, holding onto his pride even if there was no point. But he was kind of right. Maybe he could help some things, and not let his mind completely take him over every single time it asked, but there were a countless amount of examples in which he _had_ tried, and it was like knocking on a stone door. No one’s going to hear you wanting to come inside. So he’ll take half the blame; leave the other half to his mental gorgons.

“Yeah, maybe so,” Hadrian snorted, sighing deeply like he wished to expel every unit of air out of his lungs. “So what now?” he asked, finally backing away from the lengthy and long overdue hug to face the present matters.

“We…” Auron said, rubbing at his chin and silently admitting that he had no clue.

“Try to work things out—be normal again?” Hadrian asked hopefully, twiddling his thumbs behind his back so he wasn’t outright showing just how much of a nervous wreck he was.

“I...yeah,” Auron said, showcasing a glinting grin and nodding his head in full support. “I’d like that.”

“No more running off?” Hadrian asked, knowing all too well that such a promise, even if sincerely made, would never hold with this twin of his. Auron looked just about ready to respond, but Hadrian cut him off, quick to assure Auron he hadn’t really been serious. “Do whatever, Auron. Just tell me before you go.”

“That I can do,” Auron responded, a twinge of an almost worried nervousness playing with his bitten lips that Hadrian chose not to bring attention to.

 _Something’s still not right with him._ “Okay,” Hadrian said, rocking from his heels to the balls of his feet and gesturing to the door with his arm. “Dinner?”

“Sure,” Auron quipped with a pleased smile of contentment, falling in step behind Hadrian when he turned and following him out into the hall. It’s almost a laughable shame how his little brother never saw the victorious smirk behind his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT LAST LINE GIVES ME CHILLS AND I WROTE IT.


	5. A Beginning or an End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, here's another one, blahblah this this this, and some of that, yadda yadda underage warning but I don't get graphic. Hadrian was nuts, we all know that. Good to see you. You doing well? Eating good? Sleeping alright? Cool. If there's mistakes in this, lol my bad. I edited really fast cuz I was short on time. Slap me. Sorry for another lame ass chapter title, but you know me well enough now not to expect any better. Slap me again.

*Three years later*

 

“Fuck, ‘Tinous,” Hadrian gasped, driving his pelvis forward again and again to get his cock as deep into his boyfriend as he could. “You should feel yourself,” he added breathlessly, nails digging into his lover’s hip bones while his flexed arms helped push and pull him around.

“F-f-feeling you is enough,” Antinous rasped, returning to his high-pitched mewls and squeaks while he let himself be owned.

“You both wear me out,” Marcius sighed, sat on the nearest couch from the bed with his feet propped up on the table as he puffed on burning sage.

Being sixteen, Hadrian and Antinous’s sex drives had greedily called for more than just themselves, and a shocking amount of Roman soldiers had accepted offers to come to bed with them, but Marcius especially was what you would call a regular. At first, Hadrian had been kind of uneasy asking his mentor, someone who had played a part in raising him, if he’d be interested in something like that, so he’d taken it slow.

He realized how attracted he’d been to Marcius as he grew older, and likewise, he’d caught some lingering looks while sweating all over each other in wrestling matches, so he’d returned the looks tenfold, making it blatantly obvious what he was thinking, and things had progressed from there. Plus, even if it had felt weird at first, being with Marcius really felt like being home, having a family again, and he wouldn’t trade that for something as stupid as being “appropriate.”

“Then take a nap, old man,” Hadrian panted, bending down and biting at Antinous’s neck when he wailed in pleasure loud enough to interrupt the conversation.

“I’m thirty eight, you brat,” Marcius grumbled, idly eating grapes while he scratched at his naked stomach. “I may be getting up there, but the elder scholars are the true old men here. We all hope to make it to an age like that, whether we ever do or not. With age comes wisdom...I believe that makes _you_ an idiot,” he chuckled, popping a red grape into his mouth and sinking further against the couch.

“You’re just jealous of my energy and shining beauty,” Hadrian said haughtily, just missing the condescending eye roll of his mentor as he put his attention back on his boyfriend.

“Hadrian, hurry up!” Antinous begged from below, startling and confusing Hadrian who wasn’t used to such a request.

“What do you even mean—”

“I’m almost there, just make me come,” Antinous panted, arching his back to lift his hips and making Hadrian’s passage that much easier.

“Apologies,” Hadrian agreed, releasing Antinous’s hips to plant both hands on their bed and gain the proper leverage for the finishing race. Sweat dripped from his forehead to his lover’s spine as he approached their finale, hoping he came in time because Antinous always got snappy about sensitivity after he did.

As luck would have it, the mere sound of Antinous coming apart did Hadrian in, and he (much to Antinous’s consistent gripes) spilled himself fully inside, and deep at that, and both boys were a shivering groaning mess until the black spots left their vision.

“Every...time,” Antinous heaved, twisting his head around to try and catch Hadrian, but the angle was too inconvenient for such an action. “How do I come like that every time?”

“Ahah, because it’s me,” Hadrian snorted, pulling himself from his spent lover and wiping the leftover excess from his shaft onto their sheets. Worse had happened to said sheets.

“Why do I spent my time with such a vain young man?” Marcius muttered, smirking when both boys snapped their heads in his direction.

“Please. I could be a dear, it wouldn’t matter to you. It’s just the fact that I’m the _young_ man you so astutely pointed out,” Hadrian said with no shortage of sass, scooting off the bed and tiptoeing on the cold floor to reach the couch where Marcius was lounged.

“No, not over here. Not with that sweaty body—no!” Marcius laughed, giving up the fight before it had begun when Hadrian heavily fell over his entire front, the potent smell of sex filling his nostrils like a fog. He slapped Hadrian’s back a few times while the boy boredly hummed as though he were innocent, but he knew only tickling would do the trick of uprooting him. He wouldn’t be doing that, though. There’s no way he’d ever want him to leave.

Would you?

  


\---

  


“Hadrian,” Trajan’s impatient and irritated voice snapped for the fifth time in this conversation, his beefy fingers rubbing at his temples as if this concept somehow exhausted _him_ more than Hadrian. “We’ve been over this time after trying time. Sabina is a good match for you—her parents are practically paying for our military, that money is especially valued right now, and you need to produce an heir,” he stated, looking up from the floor panel he was glaring at to meet Hadrian’s incredulous eyes.

“I can produce heirs without—”

“No, you cannot. If you want a bunch of illegitimate heirs running around the palace, be my guest, but good luck getting Rome to accept them as their future ruler. You need to marry Sabina, and I’ve let your refusals slide now for more times than this fight is worth. It’s an order from your Emperor, and if you keep fighting me, I’ll show you how scary I can really be,” he growled, a foreign edge in his tone that did its job in making Hadrian gulp.

He’d never seen Uncle Trajan like this in his life.

“This family expects me to love their daughter. To be at her side until death and treat her as my beloved Queen. You and I both know I can’t do that,” Hadrian reasoned, crossing his arms to look solid, but really, he felt like he was only doing it to protect himself.

“You can act—you already lie all the time to the masses. I’ve seen you flirt with women, seen you twirl their hair in your fingers. I know you can make Sabina believe anything you want her to,” Trajan said, his tone taking on more of an encouraging pep-talk than a harsh lecture.

“That’s not the problem,” Hadrian sighed, sitting down hard onto the couch behind him and slamming his forehead into his folded hands. “I can appear like I’m everything she could ever want...but I mean the time together. I can’t spend so much time with her, I can’t forsake Antinous for this act. I won’t,” he added for double effect, shrinking down into his spine when Trajan rose and slapped his authoritative purple toga behind him.

“Auron wouldn’t put up this kind of fight. He knew his place,” Trajan spat, the words empty of conceivable threat (they couldn’t bloody swap now) but highly effective in hitting Hadrian’s every nerve.

“Yes, let’s bring that psycho back into the palace,” Hadrian said, his tone oozing and overflowing with sarcasm. “See how long it will take Rome to fall. I’d give it a fucking week.” The harsh slap across the face, rings and all, really shouldn’t have come as a shock.

“Just get out of my sight, insolent brat. This wedding is still on, you are to be betrothed in two week’s time, and one slip-up—and I mean _one_ , Hadrian—and you’ll sorely regret ever being born into your bloodline,” Trajan warned, his constant back and forth between moods giving Hadrian uneasy whiplash.

“Fine,” Hadrian snarled with his face cradled by his hand, left without any smart choice in the world but to surrender. He knew sabotaging the wedding would only end in assumed lashes, and then another wedding thereafter with some different ‘worthy’ female. “But don’t test me, old man. We do this my way. I’ll marry her, sure, and I’ll even emotionlessly fuck her until she bears a son, but I’ll treat her however the fuck I want, ignore her as long as I want. She won’t ever be my equal, or my true love. That spot is eternally taken.”

“You hormonal little—you can’t have everything, Hadrian. You need to start learning how to make a fucking sacrifice or I’ll drop one on your plate you can’t avoid,” Trajan sneered, snapping his fingers and jabbing his hand toward his door to banish Hadrian until further notice.

“Duly noted, my Lord,” Hadrian grunted, forcing a respectful bow and rolling his eyes as he spun on his heel and stomped toward the door. He hated fighting with Trajan, he really did, and he never really had, but this recent and suffocating pressure to marry a female had banged a dent into their relationship. Perhaps it would boil over in due time, but for now...for now he wanted to forcefully steal the throne right this second and send all young Roman maidens into exile. _Sabina, Queen to Hadrian...don’t make me fucking laugh._

  


\---

  


Hadrian reached his secret tree in his current form of steaming volcano, ripping his sword out from its sheath and roughly staking it into the grass with a throat-tearing growl. His entire body was coated in little hot tongues of rage, prickling his skin and changing its very temperature.

A marriage. An unavoidable, unfair, unwanted or needed marriage. To a girl. And not just any girl, but Vibia Sabina, the maiden desired by half of Rome. Half the nation and certainly every noble family within its walls knew of her and wanted her for themselves; there was a city full of men that would kill to be in Hadrian’s place with that girl set up for them, and they frankly deserved to have her. _Anyone but me._

It wasn’t anything against Sabina, she seemed nice enough, and even he could objectively tell how historic her beauty would be, but he didn’t want to be the one staring at it all the time. She would want pieces of him he would never be able to give, and breaking her heart because he didn’t want her was not something he felt great about doing in the future. The poor girl would be stuck with a stone wall when she could have ended up being worshiped her whole life by any other eligible bachelor.

_Well if I hate it, then it’s only fair you do. Maybe she’ll wish more for herself and leave me. That would work out best for everyone...if only they wouldn’t kill her for that._

A lot of thoughts were rushing through his head because they’d been forced onto the topic. He’d put it off in his mind this whole time because that union had always been such a far-off concept that he could deal with when he was ‘older.’ Now, though, with the news of its happening right around the damn corner from this moment, nothing else could own his attention.

What would he do? He’d go through with it, because he had to, but what then? How far could he push her away before shit got ugly? How much longer could he keep Antinous by his side without Sabina telling her family, and her family going after his deepest love with fire and blade? Antinous’s life would be put in danger from this, and he knew that, but the sacrifice of keeping him safe was leaving, and he’d rather marry Trajan himself and be a lapdog to him forever than live without Antinous.

Perhaps it was the thoughts themselves that brought Antinous to him—maybe his mind was sending out distress calls that only he could hear—but whatever the reason for the perfect timing, there he was, quickening his pace across the plain to the tree when he confirmed Hadrian to be under it.

He waved and began to call when the upright sword caught his eyes, and he slowed before it, gripping the handle and uprooting it from the grass in one swift tug. “Bad day?” he guessed, walking Hadrian’s sword to him and leaning it against the tree when Hadrian didn’t acknowledge it whatsoever.

“They moved the wedding up,” Hadrian sighed, ripping a daisy out of its bed and vexedly tearing its petals off because a flower seemed the most innocent thing around he could destroy. Who knows what it would be if not a flower?

“I...I know,” Antinous agreed with a nod of his head, taking up his regular spot on the strongest root beside Hadrian’s shoulder.

“What?” Hadrian asked, glancing up at Antinous to meet his eyes, eyes that looked ablaze with love and acceptance. “Then why are you so damn happy?” he grumbled, in sheer disbelief that he really was the only one upset about this. “This affects you too, or doesn’t it? Do you not care as much as—”

“H,” Antinous snapped, pushing off the root with his hands and craftily landing in a crouch just beyond Hadrian’s toes. “Shut that mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” he warned, winning Hadrian’s momentary surprise at his behavior which was the perfect opportunity to keep going. “You know I hate it—but I hate complaining more. If we let this make us depressed, they win. We just have to find a way around it. I don’t mind being your secret. I don’t mind sneaking through halls in the dead of night. If I can just be with you, any way, I don’t care about what the public sees.”

“Antinous, you deserve more than that,” Hadrian said, still pressing the matter even though Antinous’s words had indeed lifted an uncomfortable weight off his body. At least Antinous still wanted to be with him after all this.

“Well we don’t have a choice!” Antinous said, reaching out and taking Hadrian’s hands in his own. “When all else fails, we have to settle for whatever we can do in our power to get around them. We don’t have to beat them, or win, we just have to stay together through the odds.”

“We could have a choice,” Hadrian said quietly, refusing to meet Antinous’s eyes as he gazed up at the green and orange leaves of their special tree. “You could run away with me and we could be together in the mountains for the rest of our lives…” he said wistfully, knowing damn well that wasn’t a likely option to obtain.

“Now I _know_ you’ve lost it,” Antinous chuckled, denying the prospect of that to enter his mind because he didn’t need to mourn over what he couldn’t have. “It’ll be okay, Hadrian. I can wait. I can stand back or come forward whenever you need me to—I understand,” he assured, kissing the hands he’d stolen for extra measure.

“I don’t know how I would even breathe without you,” Hadrian groaned, darting forward and collecting Antinous into his arms like a doll, limbs of both boys flying every which way as they tumbled to embrace on the ground. “Please, I know it’s selfish...but please don’t leave me. I really don’t think I could do this without you.”

“H, I’m never going to leave you. You’d have to kick me out, or I’d have to die,” Antinous said, kissing every patch of skin on Hadrian’s chest he could get to without a neck cramp.

“Well don’t do that either,” Hadrian ordered, suddenly terrified of Antinous dying on him while he was powerless to stop it. Would such a cursed concept ever see the light? If he was any kind of God-chosen Emperor, he had to assume there’s no way it could. _I’ll protect you, I promise._

“Yeah, I won’t,” Antinous agreed, wondering if that was true enough for the Gods to intervene if he was ever in danger. Did they approve of this relationship? He figures they’d find out someday—some day when they passed through the gates. “Not on your watch.”

  


\---

  


After leaving Antinous by his domus (with enough kisses to hold him off for the night and then some), Hadrian trudged through the gates to the Palace, nodding at the guards that gave him the classic salute he’d grown to roll his eyes at. Not like he’d make them stop, nor would they even if he did, but he didn’t like it during the times he wanted to be alone; it felt like the whole word was pointing at him.

He took less crowded passages to his room once he’d escaped the hot sun of the outdoors, noting the dirt caked under his fingernails and making a mental note to have one of the slaves draw him a bath when the sun set. He sighed for the hundredth time and quickened his pace to his own personal space, one of the only places he could ever be without constant interruptions.

That freedom wouldn’t be seen today, though. For when he opened his door, not only did he instantly gather it wasn’t empty, but once he walked in far enough, he then realized who was in it. And what they were doing. _Could this day get any more…_

There, sitting on his bed like he was allergic to respect and common decency, was his brother Auron, evidently back home from another mysterious journey, and joined by a servant boy of their own age, on his already bruised knees before him with his head placed right in the center of Auron’s spread legs.

Hadrian just stood there for a second of calm agitation, taking in the maddening sight of Auron receiving fellatio from a slave _on his bed_. His brother, blind and deaf to Hadrian’s presence, sighed with a grin to the ceiling, his fingers curling into the boy’s hair while he bobbed up and down on what Auron had decided to fill his mouth with.

The sounds coming out of Auron sent a shiver down Hadrian’s spine because it was almost like hearing himself if that were Antinous, but the mewls coming from the slave were most unwelcome, and he couldn’t believe he’d let it go on this long. “Out of the entire Imperial Palace, and you had to do this here,” he said, tossing down his sword onto the center table and taking off the top layers off his armor.

The boy jolted at the sound of Hadrian’s voice and pushed away from Auron with an inhuman speed, but Auron took his sweet time giving any notice to Hadrian, cracking one lazy open while he returned his cock to the confines of his underwear and tugged his tunic down. “I was getting close too…” he said with a pitiful pout, cracking the act and chuckling while he stood and approached the boy still on his knees and caressed his hidden face. “Thanks for that. I’ll find you later.”

“You won’t,” Hadrian said, stomping over to the boy and lifting his face by the chin, blinking widely at the undeniable beauty he found from its features. _Shit, Auron. I don’t blame you._ “You can take this body wherever you want in Rome,” he said to his yawning brother, bending down to address his next words to the scared rabbit on the floor. “But if it means my bed, or anywhere in my chambers again, your entire family will die for it,” he threatened, smirking at the terrified yelp he got in response. “Now get out,” he ordered as he pushed him back, watching him bow and scurry out like his own life had been put on the line.

“Why didn’t you just join?” Auron asked, like kicking the servant out had been the lamest thing Hadrian could have done. “Why didn’t we ever fuck boys together?” he wondered, sprawling back out on Hadrian’s bed and palming at the finest quality silks and hemp fabrics from Asia. “Can you imagine how many dreams we’d make come true?”

“Why are you here, Auron?” Hadrian asked, not rude but not friendly, a simple question as he’d ask a member of the guard.

“Why am I ever here?” Auron retorted, flopping onto his back and running a strand of fabric from Hadrian’s bed between his fingers. “To pay my respects for my dear brother—to love him and cherish him as we did as children.”

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told,” Hadrian muttered, sitting down on his couch and immediately wondering if Auron’s deed with the slave boy had reached this spot as well.

“I never need to lie to you,” Auron said, sitting upright and pulling his ankles in to sit with crossed legs. “Anything I could be hiding from you is to protect you anyway…”

Hadrian’s eyes narrowed to slits and he turned his head to Auron, marinating in that statement and how very much it sounded like a confession lacking information. _What kind of secrets are flowing through your head, brother?_ “Is that supposed to comfort me? Or if not...make you look better? It does neither,” he said, catching a slyness to Auron’s eye roll that made his toes curl. _You really are hiding something colossal, aren’t you?_

“I heard about your wedding—there,” Auron said, clapping his hands together just once after stretching his arms out as he spoke. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh that,” Hadrian said, casting a gloomy cloud over his body now that he’d remembered that still a thing. It was easy to forget, but every time it came back, it brought a cart full of disappointment with it.

“Yes, that. Sabina,” Auron said, not sure if the pretty face in his mind was Sabina or not; all Roman maidens looked the same to him. He did know the name, though, and now his brother would be forced to know the girl as a lover. Sometimes Auron was happy again that he’d had the status of Emperor ripped out from under him. This was an example of pure elation.

“You look entirely too happy over there,” Hadrian said, noting his brother’s inappropriate grin and looking around him for something heavy to throw.

“I just really... _really_ don’t envy you. Or poor Antin—”

“Keep that name,” Hadrian spat as he rose from his seat, accidentally initiating a challenge because Auron stood up in the same tensed manner. “Out of your mouth.”

“What is it with you and him? Why do you always protect him like he’s a baby bird before flight? What about me? My feelings? Do they matter? Huh?” Auron ranted, stepping closer with each noisy jab until the twins were chest to chest and practically snarling into each other’s faces.

“You’re never even here, how do your feelings even remotely take priority?” Hadrian growled, basking in the dead silence his words had thrown his brother into. Nothing had ever felt better.

His basking was cut short, however, when Auron chose to let his body do the talking, throwing an open palm out quick as lightning toward Hadrian’s face. Hadrian’s reflexes had always outdone his older brother’s, though, and he caught Auron’s wrist in a tight grip, hoping he appeared intimidating because he hadn’t even looked away from his brother’s eyes while doing so.  

“Let me hit you,” Auron snarled, even baring his teeth in rage as he fought to get his hand back from Hadrian’s grasp.

Hadrian nearly laughed out loud but shoved the impulse down before he made his brother explode, tossing the wrist he’d held aside and walking off with a sigh toward the lookout at the foot of his bed, where he did most of his beloved people-watching. “Auron, do you remember when we were kids? When we played by that creek and then tracked mud throughout our entire domus?” he asked fondly, fixing his eyes on a person walking the streets below so he didn’t have to face his brother as he opened this floodgate of memory.

“What of it?” Auron snapped, though his voice showed a decrease in edge.

“I went back there a week ago or so, and I found small children there in our place. Presumably brothers as well if going by their physical similarities. Do you know how hard that struck me? It made me want the past in my hands—made me wish I could manipulate time as Saturn does. I missed you so much in that moment I could have thrown up,” he admitted, lightly kicking the tips of his toes behind him against the stone floor. “But it’s cold water to the face every time I see you. When you’re here, in arm’s reach, with that troublesome chill in your heart, I’m glad time continues to pass as usual. I’m _glad_ it takes me further away from you. Time heals me of you. I long now only for peace and quiet. I just wish you’d leave me alone.”

Auron vented silently to himself, something Hadrian could tell even without looking, and it took awhile for his response but when it came, Hadrian wished it hadn’t.

“You’d better be damn sure about what you just said, because I will make you regret it,” he seethed, putting a small smile of disappointment on Hadrian’s face that he couldn’t see.

Hadrian turned when he gathered his emotions and met those blazing green eyes a hint of a shade darker than his, outstretching his arms in a manner that suggested initiating a challenge. “Dear brother, you make me regret everything already. Go ahead. Do your fucking worst—I expect nothing less. You live to despise me. Who am I to rob you of that hobby? Have at it,” he said, giving his words a curtsy for added effect.

Auron gnawed on a corner of his lower lip for a few seconds and then gave a great huff, slapping his cloak back as he strutted from the room, stopping just before he would cross the doorway. “You invite ruin upon yourself so willingly, but I can promise you’ll wish you hadn’t. We’re through, Hadrian. Maybe we were a long time ago, but you were never my enemy...congratulations. See what happens.”

And with that he was gone. Hadrian waited until his footsteps grew faint and then nonexistent to breathe, holding his head in his hands and stalking to his door to kick it closed in one go. “Gods in the sky,” he muttered, massaging his now aching head and nearly screaming out loud when a knock came upon his freshly-slammed door. “In the sky!” he repeated in anger, sweeping across the room and wrenching it open to one of his servants.

“Hadrian,” the boy greeted with a deep bow, straightening up and gazing pointedly at somewhere just below Hadrian’s chin because all slaves were scared of eye contact. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“Just send him over—why would he even ask?” Hadrian muttered more to himself, at a loss on why Antinous would bother using a servant to announce his presence.

“Hadrian it’s...it’s not Antinous,” the boy admitted nervously, rightfully so because Hadrian’s frustration then reached a new peak. Who the fuck else would he ever want in his room?

“Then who?” he prompted, hanging on the answer to know whether or not he could slam his door again.

“Miss Sabina—”

“Oh for the _love of_ —” Hadrian spewed hotly, spinning in a quick circle with his body bent backward and then falling against the door jamb in defeat. “Fine,” he grunted, shooing his boy off to collect his to-be-bride (fuck) and bring her to his chambers. His chambers. Where no one but Antinous should ever ever be. Besides, who had okayed this? Was she even allowed to be here?

He guessed it didn’t matter now.

He’d stayed at the door that whole time so he opened it just as they’d returned, putting on a decent smile and making fearless eye contact with the girl he’d only met twice before. Still with the same brown curly hair, the same brown eyes, the same high eyebrows...the same monotony.

“I offer my greetings to you,” Sabina said shyly, bowing shortly and raising back up to take Hadrian in, if going by the sweep of her gaze. It had no hunger, only curiosity, but it was still annoying.

“Come in,” he said simply, opening the door wider and shooing his servant off once more behind her head when she passed through. He calmly shut his door this time and turned to offer her a seat on the couch, standing against the nearest pillar to it and crossing his arms over his chest. “Is this allowed?” he asked her, smirking at her chuckle that told him no, it was indeed, not supposed to be happening.

“Are you going to tell my father?” she asked, playing with some strands of her hair until she seemed to realize she was doing so, then setting both palms down on her knees.

“You gonna tell mine?” he asked back, nodding when she slowly shook her head no with a bright smile. “So what are you doing here?” he asked, retracing his steps when she audibly gulped. “Not to be unaccommodating but…”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she rushed, heaving a small sigh and setting her face into determination. “I wanted us to get to know each other more. This marriage has been weighing on my mind, and I just...I think we should be get closer before then. That way it may not be so awkward,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders like it would be okay if her idea was shot down.

“Sabina…” Hadrian began, not quite sure how to explain his point of view on things because he certainly couldn’t out himself, but how else could he warn her she’d be entering a loveless marriage? That’s a tough blow to wreak.

“I know about you, you know,” she said meekly, as a mouse would caught in a trap.

Hadrian’s head snapped up and his brows were lost in his hairline, staring her down in shock because no way that’s what she meant. “Come again?”

“I—I know you are fond of men,” she said with a grimace of fear, looking into Hadrian’s eyes only to immediately seek out the floor again.

“How in the…”

“Last time we met—I noticed uh, Antinous, is it? He had the sourest of looks on his face at the table. And when you two left, he hooked his arm around yours and turned to glare at me like I’ve never been glared at before. I may not know much about love, but I think anyone could piece that together,” she said all at once, preparing herself for any repercussions that could come from that accusation.

Hadrian was utterly silenced in shock, taking a few more moments to let it sink in and then rolling his eyes while he breathed an elongated k sound from the back of his mouth. “Of course,” he chuckled, angry but also fond at Antinous’s behavior for so many reasons at once. “So I’ve been found out,” he said, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “What of it?”

“It’s okay with me,” Sabina said, striking another silence in the air because it was the last answer Hadrian could have ever expected.

Hadrian kicked off the pillar and walked over to Sabina’s spot on the couch, crouching down before her and placing his hands on her knees. “Sabina,” he began bluntly, the tone in itself suggesting he was about to set her straight. “You’re about to enter a marriage with a homosexual man. I don’t care how nice you may be, that can’t sit well with you.”

“It does!” she insisted, sitting up with better posture and nodding her head with confidence. “Really. I just want us to be close. I don’t want you to hate me, or find me a burden to carry. I want to become important to you just as a friend,” she said, finally losing her courage and staring off into anywhere that wasn’t Hadrian’s close-proximity-face. “This marriage was sprung upon me just as harshly and unexpectedly as it was on you, I don’t want you to think I’m some wench only interested in the glory. We’re both powerless, so we should make the best of it for both our sakes, and I don’t know, maybe one day you’ll…” she drifted, pursing her lips together and looking like she was busy throwing herself mental curses.

“What, become a heterosexual?” Hadrian snorted, sitting back on his feet and crossing his arms over his skyward knees.

“No no,” Sabina said far too quickly, giving up the resistance and grabbing a lock of hair to hang onto for dear life. “I just mean...I don’t know, maybe you could grow to love me in some weird way—that would be all I would ever ask.”

Hadrian swallowed his laughter deep in his gut—it’s not that he thought her sentiment unreasonably ridiculous, but she should have seen how she looked in that moment. He stood from his squat and backed up a few paces to return to the pillar from which he’d left, figuring a sudden loss of proximity would cut her nerves in half. It did.

“I hope you don’t think I’m—”

“Sabina,” he cut off, shaking his head and softly sighing to the ceiling. How could he just break a girl’s heart who’d broken so many rules to get here in the first place? How could he tell her it was hopeless? He didn’t want to make her cry, not this soon. And maybe she had a point—maybe he could see her as a sister. Wait, nevermind. That’s a terrible idea.

“I think I’ll take my leave now, I said some weird things and I should just,” she paused, standing and looking all around the area in which she’d sat like she’d brought sacks of belongings with her when they both knew she hadn’t. “Yeah, everything’s in order, excuse me I’ll just—”

Hadrian rolled his eyes fondly as she tried to squeeze past him between the end of the couch, reaching out just as she’d fully pass and clasping his hand around her arm right above the elbow. She jolted for the short second she got before he wrenched her back toward him, catching the back of her head and pulling it into his chest for a sort-of-hug neither had been expecting.

He kept his hand on her hair and waited for her to relax, then began to speak, “Sabina, I want you to know that I really am sorry,” he said quietly, speaking so only she could hear even if others were in the room. “You deserve a lot better than me. You’re a pretty girl, and you seem like a nice one too...I’m truly sorry that you’ll have to deal with me,” he sighed, his heart already breaking over the whole concept because why did he have to be this girl’s destination in life? It just wasn’t fair for any party.

“I don’t know,” she said with a bit more confidence than she’d had up to this point, actually raising her arms to daintily wrap them around his torso. “If this is _dealing_ with you, I don’t think I’ll mind.”

Hadrian barked a laugh and knocked his head back on the pillar, ruffling her fluffy brown hair much like his own and resting his whole palm fingers splayed on the tip top of her head. “ _Trust_ me you’ll mind,” he assured monotonously with a characteristic half-smile, cracking on eye open and glancing down at her reddened cheeks.

That was the point he let go entirely and stood up straighter to conclude the uncalled-for embrace. He probably shouldn’t have touched her at all, but it was too late to change that now.

She got the picture and backed away, looking unsure as to what the next step was in this odd meeting process and shifting her weight back and forth between her legs.

Hadrian huffed a smile and wandered to his door, swinging it open and leaning against the edge once it was fully perpendicular to the wall. By the time he looked back to nudge his chin toward the hall, she was already standing right before him, smiling in a way that had Hadrian’s stomach clenching with nerves, and not the good kind. _What have I done?_

“It was good to see you, Hadrian. I think we can make this work,” she said, giving him one more curtsy and practically floating through the doorway into the hall she’d have to sneak down to escape the palace. Speaking of…

“How did you even get here?” he asked, poking his head out of his room to make sure no roaming guards were here at an inconvenient time.

“Your servant seemed like he would have amputated a limb if I asked him to,” she replied, no doubt subtly mentioning she was a common catch for a reason.

“Go find him again to get out—he’ll be that way,” Hadrian said, sweeping his arm down and then pointing left down the eastern hall. “Be careful.”

“I will,” she said with a nod, backing up a few paces and quickly recovering when she almost tripped on her aqua green tunic.

Harry took matters into his own hands then and shut the door to break their eye contact, turning around and leaning against it immediately, listening to her footsteps fade beyond the end of the hall. “Hadrian...she has to hate you, remember? That’s the only way this works,” he muttered, shivering at the mere thought of Antinous’s face when and if he found out she’d been in his room and they’d been friendly together. “This is not what I’d planned…”

Then again, what ever is?

  


\---

  


“You’re fucking _sure_?” Hadrian said for the hundredth time, locking suspicious eyes with Antinous at their special tree, one day now before his wedding with Sabina.

“ _Yes_ , for all the might of the Gods, how many times must I say it?” Antinous laughed; a laugh which was much too bubbly on an eve such as this. An eve with a following morn that would prove to jumble Antinous’s life into an unrecognizable mess. “This is what must—”

“Antinous. We both know it’s a ‘must’ situation. But I can’t believe—you know, no, I’m nearly offended that you seem so fine with this,” Hadrian muttered, kicking at some flowers to rid of the world of as much beauty as he presently could.

“Offended,” Antinous scoffed, reaching out for Hadrian’s hand and shaking it impatiently when Hadrian only stared at the offer.

“Oh alright,” Hadrian sighed, walking to the tree and going a step beyond by wrapping Antinous up in his arms. “Please tell me you’re really okay. You mean the world to me, my love, I can’t...I just need you to let me be selfish and ask you help me get through this. We’ll help each other get through this. It’ll never be the end, Antinous, I’m never going to leave you. I can’t live without you, so, there’s your proof.”

“My Hadrianus,” Antinous sighed, inhaling Hadrian’s scent with a mighty breath like he’d spent over a minute submerged in water. “I’m not worried about losing your heart.”

There’s a ‘but’ there. “Then what are you most worried about?” Hadrian prompted, attempting to back off to get a view of Antinous’s face but his arms grew immensely stronger when he made to do so.

“That I’ll lose your time,” Antinous confessed, and not without logic. Now that Hadrian would be married, sneaking in late-night bed activities would prove difficult, and not to mention the tours around the Empire the newly wedded couple would need to go on. When would there be time for Antinous in all that?

He’d have to make time, but could he? He understood Antinous’s point completely because it was his own. “I know,” he admitted, hating the fact that Antinous held him tighter at his words—it meant he was crying and didn’t want Hadrian to see it. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

“Oh I know,” Antinous said, his voice shaky but still strong. “Being with you isn’t easy for anyone. Not me, not your wife...no one has an easy time around you, Hadrian. Auron didn’t either.”

Hadrian’s eyebrows cinched in annoyance at that last comment and he sent an unseen glare down at Antinous’s head, quickly letting it go and looking back out to the sunny meadow they’d come to know as their outdoor home. He sighed a lament and laid his cheek down at an angle against Antinous’s temple so he could feel skin, slowly twisting them like a cork in a bottle while they crushed the flowers beneath their feet.

“We’re going to make this work,” Hadrian said again, probably breaking a record for the amount of times any one person has ever said any one thing in their entire lives. It was all he had to promise. That and love—but what practicality does that have?

“You should get going. There are preparations you’re already late for I’m sure,” Antinous said, finally releasing his hold on Hadrian and stepping back to get a good view of his face.

The look in Antinous’s eyes was skewering Hadrian right down the middle; he knew it well. It was so laughably contrived of false acceptance and false security that he could have broken down at cried right there at the sight of it. Nevertheless, he pulled through, holding below Antinous’s chin and pressing their lips together for a laughably long amount of time because who knows when the next one would be? They would be watched now. By Rome.

When the tears welled in Hadrian’s closed eyes, he ended the kiss abruptly, giving his lover one more for the road and turning away without another word. He couldn’t. And Antinous knew he couldn’t. And they both knew the other just couldn’t do it. So he had to leave.

And he could talk all about that wedding that happened that next day. He _could_. He could go into a sinkhole of details about his one and only wedding. How manic and blubbery his family had been, how beautiful and jolly Sabina had been, how delicious the food had been, and the entertainment of the jesters and concubines, the music, laughter, and drink.

Had it been a day devoted to and for literally anyone but him, they would have been the happiest man alive. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about the hordes of treasures, all those boxes with the finest of silks, the dried plant he’d smoked with his fellow soldiers until they were giggling like fools, and he really didn’t want to talk about sharing a bed with Sabina that night in his reluctant arms, even if nothing occurred beyond that with them.

He didn’t want to talk about anything. Because he hadn’t seen or heard from Antinous once that day. Regardless of all they’d said and promised one another. He’d needed him more than anyone but he hadn’t seen him once. Not one fucking time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh if I was Antinous, I woulda avoided that shit too. Idk maybe I would've gone, but it would have been hard to keep my emotions under check. He probably did it for Hadrian's benefit. I can see both sides. Auron's getting more and more nefarious isn't he? What is he doing in the background at this point in time? Anyone remember? Alright. Until next time.


	6. Last Look Untaken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all that time for a tiny filler chapter, jeeeeeeesus.

The breeze pulled strands of Hadrian’s hair with it, easing the stress of the hot sun and icing the beads of sweat running down his neck. A hunter bird cawed in the distance and Hadrian closed his eyes, trying to think just like that mighty creature and then opened them in a flash, letting his arrow fly from his bow and wincing from the resounding sting in his fingers.

A clap from his right indicated he’d evidently hit his mark, and he stepped back from the target practice stall to find Marcius with his hands interlocked behind his head, elbows out like a chicken.

“That’s your third perfect mark in a row. Keep aiming for that spot and you’ll slice one in half,” he said, joining Hadrian at the bench across the stalls and handing him a strip of clean cloth to wipe his sweat.

“Thank you,” Hadrian breathed, slapping the cloth behind his neck and folding in half to lie on his knees.

“You’re stressing monstrously about something,” Marcius noted, studying Hadrian’s bloodied finger pads and knowing well enough by now to deduce something was amiss in his life or he wouldn’t train himself into the ground like this.

“Life is hard,” Hadrian chuckled, raising his body back up to fall the other direction, colliding against the wall and slumping down as low as he could go without slipping off the bench. “I expected nothing different, but I don’t think I want this Dacian chaos in my hands,” he muttered, making eye contact with Marcius and giving him a smile.

“Trajan would never throw you into anything you weren’t ready for—unless he thought that very thing could help you grow,” Marcius said, snorting at himself when he realized his polarity of advice probably wasn’t doing much good.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Hadrian muttered, feeling breathless both from physical exertion and the weight of politics swimming in his mind like a mad river. Rome was at war after war, part of which he’d fought, but at least that part was simple. It was the politics he hated, and it was precisely what would become most important to him after he took the throne. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Not to mention his home life. His love life was a never-ending swamp of fights and accusations from every end. Every moment he got to spend alone with Antinous, Sabina was brought up and talked about, then when we went home, his ears were filled with the same, opposite rant from Sabina. Along with her tireless reminder that he couldn’t keep this up forever because soon more people would inevitably learn of him and Antinous, and it could easily be used against him, and it was all driving him nuts. He really wished those two would stop talking about each other.

Yet he knew he wouldn’t be safe from that any time soon. Especially in the upcoming weeks. Antinous was bound to find something out he didn’t want to know real soon.

“Take the day off, Hadrian. You need your hands—no point destroying them now,” Marcius said, physically taking Hadrian’s bow away from the bench and hanging it up on the rack a few paces down.

“You’re kicking me out?” Hadrian asked, no shortage of annoyance in his tone. If Marcius thought he was helping, he was sorely mistaken. This is how he dealt with the chaos surrounding everything else. Though truth be told...his hands had felt better.

“I _am_ kicking you out. Go get some sleep,” Marcius said, returning to the bench but standing over him instead of sitting to add a twinge of authority to his suggestion.

“It’s midday,” Hadrian noted, doubting a nap would be possible even if he was perpetually seconds from sleep. Hadrian was up when the sun was; that had always and would always stay true.

“Regardless, just go home. Go lie in bed like you’re sleeping at least—it’ll come to you eventually,” Marcius pressed, pulling Hadrian up by the arm and shoving him off in the direction of home. The target practice grounds where within the kingdom, so he technically already was home, but he obviously meant his chambers.

“Fuck off, old man,” Hadrian chuckled, throwing up his hand to wave behind him as he reluctantly turned the corner and began the lengthy walk through the kingdom. He was bowed to by everyone he saw, and just like any other day, he didn’t like it much, but he didn’t even have the rights to tell them not to. They would feel they were being disrespectful even if it was he wanted. Just how shit worked around here.

Once he reached the part of the castle that his chambers would be found in, his most trusted slave Fabricius found him. And he looked a mess.

“Master Handrianus,” Fabricius squealed, tears streaming down his face as he tripped his way down the hall and hung onto Hadrian like his legs were merely accessories and had forever malfunctioned.

“What!” Hadrian shouted in surprise, steadying Fabricius and staring into his blown eyes for the information he clearly needed. “What happened!”

“Antinous and Sabina. They’re in your room—just go,” Fabricius urged, pushing Hadrian down further toward the exact hall of his chambers, such a familiarity of touch only allowed by him out of all slaves.

Hadrian obeyed without a word because that combination sounded dreadful, picking up his feet and jogging the rest of the way in a bundle of sickening nerves. What the fuck was Antinous doing here, and why didn’t anyone tell him sooner?

Just as he’d anticipated, once he turned the last corner, the sounds of yelling (from both parties) filled the entire area, and he was soon sprinting to his opened door and shoving it open with a deafening kick to its thick wood.

“What the fuck is going on here!” he bellowed, taking in the sights of overturned tables and broken glass. His rage reached an all-time high for this week because whereas he’d been banished to go relax at home, here was actually where it was the worst.

“Is it true, Hadrian?!” Antinous roared, backing off from the table that had separated him from Sabina and stomping up to Hadrian instead. “Is it fucking true!”

“Is _what_ fucking true?” Hadrian barked, slapping Antinous’s fists away when they beat once on his chest.

“Tell me it’s not—tell me—tell me she’s not pregnant!” Antinous cried, jabbing his finger toward Sabina in the corner of the room, holding a hand over her heart and fixing her blown hair.

“So what if I am!” she cracked back, shoving the table away from her and stepping just a little closer now that Hadrian was here and she likely felt safer. “I’m his wife, you psychotic calamity! That’s what happens! Who are you, huh? Just who the fuck are you!”

“Sabi, that’s enough,” Hadrian warned with a tired glare, blind at first to the fact that Antinous had rounded on her until her face morphed into one of worry.

“Shit,” he hissed, flying past Antinous and screeching to a halt in front of Sabina to protect her from anything he could have wanted to do. The hurt in Antinous’s eyes was like a knife, but he couldn’t focus on that for now, he just had to stop this mess.

“You’re protecting her? Really?!” Antinous shout-laughed in Hadrian’s face, slowly shaking his head and taking slow steps backward, in obvious defeat.

Hadrian felt Sabina’s hand curl around his right arm, and he could only imagine what kind of smug face she was making at his lover, but that also had no time to be addressed. Love or assumed love be damned, he still had a child growing in this woman, and that was one important child.

“I’ll get out of your life, then,” Antinous said, shrugging his shoulders to try and make it look like he didn’t care even if that was laughably untrue.

Hadrian merely watched him leave, practically holding his breath until the last angry stomp he could hear was sounded down the hall, letting out a sigh of stress and irritation and a whole bunch of other feelings combined. _That was inevitable…_

“The nerve of some people,” Sabina huffed, clearly thinking she’d won that battle by the superior twinge in her tone. “The absolute preposterous _nerve_ —”

“Let’s get something straight,” Hadrian began, spinning around and putting that earlier nervous fear right back in his wife’s eyes. “ _You_ belong to _me_ ; _not_ the other way around. Don’t forget that. You and that child are mine, completely mine, so don’t go around acting like you own me. You don’t own me. He doesn’t own me either—none of you fucking do. But it’s cute when you like to act like it,” he growled, cursing in his thoughts when her eyes began to water.

“Sorry, I’m just—” she gritted, quickly wiping her hot tears and looking skyward while she fanned her hands by her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional…”

“Are you really wondering that?” Hadrian snorted, rolling his eyes and poking her growing belly with his pinky. “It’s because of that,” he reminded, still glad that his friendship with Sabina had remained an easy bond to upload, even if she annoyed the shit out of him sometimes.

“Yeah I guess so,” she sighed, wiping one more escaped tear and blurting out several quick noises of protest when Hadrian began to walk away. “Wait where are you—” she began to ask, biting her lips when Hadrian gave ‘the look.’ The look of ‘are you really asking me that?’ She hated that look but at least it was easy to recognize.

“Here, lie down,” he sighed, guiding Sabina to their bed and helping her into it. It wasn’t that she was big enough to _need_ any kind of physical help, but she was still pregnant and he was still protective. That was a future emperor’s son, if it was indeed a boy. It would be nice to only have to do that once.

“Go dry his tears,” Sabina said with only a little bite, smiling sweetly when Hadrian glared at her, and flipping over so she didn’t have to watch him leave. He knew she always hated that part.

 

\---

 

Two days later and Antinous still hadn’t spoken a word to him. It was annoying to say the least how he was getting along better with Sabina than Antinous—it stung like the ass of a bee. Things shouldn’t have gotten this messed up, and after all the promises on Antinous’s end of how everything would be fine, how he’d never make things difficult and hold this against him, Antinous was sure doing a fine job of breaking every single one of them.

But today of all days would have been nice to resolve these petty fights, because he was due to board a ship to go contribute more to the Dacian War. What exactly he was to meet the emperor for, he wasn’t sure, but it was clearly a secretive mission, for no citizen knew he was gone, or that Hadrian would be leaving either. _There must be rats in these city walls_ , he thought, glaring into the foggy streets with distaste.

He spent a while longer meandering around the docks in search of his Antinous, but he knew he couldn’t keep it up much longer. First off, it was a stretch to expect Antinous would somehow know exactly where he was, especially since he hadn’t announced it to anyone but Sabina—but secondly, it was also a stretch to expect Antinous to be ready to talk about the other day. _Did it hurt him that badly? Am I an idiot for even questioning that?_

“Hadrian,” the captain of this adventure coughed out, standing to attention and bowing in apology even if he was completely in the right to be pushy. “We must board soon. It is best to leave now before the coastal fog clears.”

“I know,” Hadrian sighed, swallowing the groan that would make him look like a petulant child and gesturing for the captain to lead the way to the right ship. He’d lost it quite some time ago whilst walking up and down the docks.

The captain nodded and walked south along the raised wooden coast, only his footsteps making any noise because Hadrian was far too sullen to walk with life in his steps. He followed the man’s back in defeat, finally losing all hope for timely resolution when the captain pivoted toward one particular ramp and gestured his arm out to the ship it led to.

“Right this wa—”

“H,” a shockingly close voice rasped, a strong hand clenching around his forearm and pulling him around.

And there he was—red in the face, sweating and panting, looking like he’d run all the way across Rome to see him off. Antinous. “You—” Hadrian huffed, biting his tongue and turning his head back to the captain. “Just one moment longer; please,” he added, putting as much power of persuasion in his eyes as he could.

“Yes, but _quickly_ ,” the captain urged politely, retreating across the ramp himself to prepare the ship to leave the very second Hadrian dropped onto its deck.

“Antinous—”

“We don’t have time, let me talk,” Antinous interrupted, wiping the sweat from his face and gathering himself with one large breath because there truly wasn’t time for any slow proceedings. “I was an immature child; I was a hypocrite, a snake, and a fool, and I don’t blame you for anything, but I...I just don’t think I can do this, okay? I don’t know, I just don’t feel like there’s room for me—”

“Antinous,” Hadrian sighed, crossing his arms and glaring toward the ground between their feet. Had Antinous really came all this way just to say that? “I don’t need this right now.”

“You never need it, that’s my fucking point,” Antinous said, turning Hadrian’s face up to meet eyes whether he wanted it or not. “You don’t get it. I don’t like the person I’ve become by staying with you. I’ve turned into an envious, negative force of dark energy. I expect too much from you, I pine over you, and I’m sick of being looked at like the crazy one. Because I really am the crazy one. I don’t want it anymore,” he said, his lip wobbling as he valiantly held back a crashing wave of tears.

“What—” Hadrian began, pinching the bridge of his nose and doing his best to process all this as rapidly as he had to. “—what happened to all the promises we made? Why couldn’t they...why…” He really didn’t know what to say at this point. He couldn’t argue and tell Antinous to get over it if he was making him so suffer so much, and there also wasn’t anything he could change. He’d seen this coming but why does he have to face it right _now_?

“We can talk more when you get back, but...I had to tell you this before you left. I don’t know why. I should have waited. I want you in my life, Hadrian, we just can’t be what I had hoped we could be,” Antinous said, his eyes widening in worry when Hadrian scoffed and slapped his hands away.

“No, Antinous,” Hadrian chuckled, walking forward as Antinous took a wary step back. “You don’t get to leave me when it’s hard but stick around and remind me every day of what I _could_ have. Not when I’m stuck with a wife and heir. If you leave me, you leave forever,” he bit, his clenched fists shaking at his sides. He wanted to fucking scream.

“You think it would be easy for me?” Antinous shouted, quieting himself in understanding when Hadrian gave him a warning look and continuing at a reasonable volume. “You think any of this is fucking easy?”

“Well it certainly seemed like a walk in the gardens for you to come here and tell me as I’m trying to board my ship,” Hadrian said, turning and storming back toward said ship before he was forced to endure any more of this.

“Fuck you!” Antinous snapped, grabbing Hadrian’s shoulder and forcefully whirling him around to jab a finger in his chest. “It took me this entire fucking time to make this decision, you ass of a man. Did you seek me out once? No. I had to figure this out on my own. And do you _really_ think we could honestly cut each other out just like that?”

Hadrian grabbed Antinous by the neck and yanked him forward, crashing their lips together and tangling his other hand into his fluffy hair, chasing the taste of his past, of his entire adolescence and all of adulthood so far in case it really was the last time.

Antinous’s sob rang in his ears but he didn’t stop, wrapping his lover up in his arms and documenting every detail with all of his senses. Antinous held onto him like he would die if he let go, which was enough to tell Hadrian the decision wasn’t fully made yet, but once something like this starts, it all goes downhill like a boulder down a cliff. This relationship wasn’t healthy and both of them knew it.

“I can’t,” Antinous mumbled against his lips, letting Hadrian go and expecting him to follow suit.

Hadrian did, ending the kiss and stepping back, looking Antinous up and down as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I know—that was a goodbye kiss.”

Antinous cried harder at that, hugging himself around the middle and seeming to implode from the inside, and as much as Hadrian wished he could rid Antinous of that pain, he as a person was only continuously adding to it. There would be no antidote to this poison; they had to let it eat them alive if they were ever going to heal later. He’d used that expression for a reason—healing was indeed impossible.

“Can we talk more when you get back?” Antinous asked in a moment of weakness, beginning to regret his decisions now that Hadrian had been convinced. He probably hadn’t anticipated that, and as far as Hadrian was concerned, that was his third mistake (the second being their first kiss, the first being their first exchanged words).

“Probably not,” Hadrian said with a face void of emotion, taking Antinous’s face in again and turning around for the final time, knowing Antinous wouldn’t dare try to stop him again. “Please take care of yourself—you know I’ll always love you.”

Antinous’s cries were the hardest thing to hear without trying to quell, but Hadrian pushed forward, promising himself he wouldn’t look back. He had to leave his personal life behind him right here and now—battles lie ahead.

Thing is, he really should have looked back. Anything for one more view—one last time—he really should have looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll start outlining better now. i haven't been doing much with this series at all obviously, i've been doing other projects and stuff so this chapter originally started out with NO outline, that's why it turned into nothing, but we all know what happens next, i mean in hadrian's history. peeps gon die so. next chapter will be a lot more....filled with reader protein? idfk. outlining never fails me so *finger gun* i got this.


	7. Death's Four Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll be pleased to know I have the chapter after this done too, wow look at me go. Doing as much as I can before fall semester starts back up again. 
> 
> Sorry, ya boi's a real shit.
> 
> Also, I've been going back and looking back through this account and all I've done, and wow some of my author's notes were so fucking lame. Ya know? How you can just really embarrass yourself sometimes? That's me. Whatever. 
> 
> Enjoy this suffering.

Hadrian’s entire ride on the ship was filled with the worst inner cacophony he’d experienced yet. Out of all the times for Antinous to turn his back on him—because it was ‘difficult’ for him—like it wasn’t bloody impossible for Hadrian as well. It made him sick. 

He stayed in that mental rut for an embarrassingly long time, not even noticing the time that passed him by as he got further from his home and closer to his duty for his home. He would be meeting Trajan to discuss a great number of things and hopefully procure more fodder soldiers for this impending battle with the Gauls in the Northern regions where the Roman Empire met the Gallic one. They also needed more spies.

Hadrian never exactly liked the idea of using people with a debt to pay to spy and acquire classified information for their benefit, but he couldn’t deny it was generally foolproof, especially in eastern areas where their skin was darker—they fit in with their regions better than most of Hadrian’s men could. Still, there was no payoff for their sacrifice (they could easily get caught, causing their death), and Hadrian thought about how he would fix that as an emperor. Perhaps a place in their army.

There was a lot of things Hadrian felt he needed to fix. Little problems of poverty, how to get more resources to the citizens who most needed it, how to properly deal with internal crime to ensure it hardly ever happened. Especially how to take power away from the politicians—they drove Hadrian nuts. An emperor of Rome did not have only himself to answer to. Rome had gone through a few different political system changes now, and supposedly the governors had lost the amount of power they’d once had over the state, but try telling them that.

Hadrian saw no difference.

“Hadrian,” a voice said, the voice’s head leaning down into the under storage area of the ship, where Hadrian sat in the middle of the long lines of silent rowers, brooding over a map lit by a candle in his grasp via handle.

“Mm,” he said, shaking his thoughts away as the crewman stated his cause.

“We’ve arrived.”

Of course they had. The rowers had slowed their rowing.  _ Are you even in this world, Hadrian?  _ Hadrian blew the candle out and rolled up the map on the table, kicking the barrel back under the makeshift table and climbing the short set of stairs necessary to reach the dock. He was met by fellow members of his military boarding the longboat with their helmets held against their hips, skin glistening with sweat even in the night. Hadrian wonders what they’d been up to.

“Hadrian,” the tallest one announced, his black curly hair bouncing as he bowed in respect. The other one bowed too, but since he hadn’t spoken, Hadrian didn’t give him any notice.

“What’s happened? You seemed rushed,” Hadrian noted, eyes searching around for potential enemies since he’d been trained to, but of course there was nothing—at least, not out in the open.

“There was an assassination attempt,” the guard informed, eyes downcast as he delivered the most important detail, “on Emperor Trajan.”

“What happened?” Hadrian asked after getting off the longboat in a hurry, the two guards briskly walking to keep his pace as they led him to their cliffside camp.

“There was poison in his food,” the olive-skinned and black-haired male said, transferring his helmet from his right hip to his left so he was more open to Hadrian beside him.

“Who ate the food?” Hadrian asked, fully expecting them to have no idea who since it was probably some low-level—

“ Taepius Acilius,” the guard said, scrambling to a halt when Hadrian froze all movement and whipped around in shock.

“Acilius?” Hadrian breathed, thoughts and feelings regarding his mentor of academic education pouring from his heart. Acilius was the main reason he was able to process situations and use his brain the way he did—he’d been his childhood teacher as long as he could remember, and even to this day if Hadrian ever had a question about legitimately anything, Acilius was happy to answer to the best of his ability.

“Y-yes,” the guard confirmed, nervous now to deliver the news since it had struck Hadrian so harshly.

Hadrian made no more remarks and continued on in his path, tuning the guards out and losing himself to the inner parts of his mind. Acilius was gone. No matter how he looked at it, his past always found a way to die on him.

They reached the campsite quickly since his pace had drastically doubled, and Trajan’s tent was the first place he went, met immediately with the sight of Acilius laid out on a mat in the corner, Trajan and his closest guards huddled in a circle in the opposite corner.

“Hadrian,” Trajan said sadly, his eyes and head lifting from the group discussion to the flaps wherein Hadrian had intruded. He shooed his guards off and they bowed to Hadrian on the way out, leaving the emperor and his successor alone with the smartest man in all of Rome. Well...who used to hold that title, anyway.

“Who...when,” Hadrian asked disorderly, feeling like he needed to sit down to properly deal with this situation.

“I’m not sure—it could have been poisoned before we left Rome. Those were fruits that hadn’t been touched,” Trajan said, looking crushed under the pressure of suspecting any and all of Rome without a clue as to where to begin investigating.

“Where is it?” Hadrian asked, wanting to see this food with his own eyes even if taking such a glance would not help their case in any way.

“Over there,” Trajan said, sighing as he pointed it out, revealing a half-eaten plate of meat and fruit on a platter, sitting innocently atop a chest they’d made into a temporary table.

Hadrian approached the platter and glared hard at its messed-about contents, crouching to sit on his heels as he leaned in for a sniff.

“Careful,” Trajan said, coming closer and staring pointedly at Hadrian’s proximity to the deathly sustenance.

Hadrian could smell a hint of something extremely sour but that was all the evidence there was, aside from the dead body of his mentor rotting in the corner. That admittedly was the biggest evidence they had of the attempted murder of Trajan. “This crime is beyond measure,” he muttered, standing from his crouch and resisting the urge to kick that platter all the way across the tent.

“Have  _ you  _ ideas who could be behind this?” Trajan asked curiously, surely wanting to get more voices on the matter since he’d gone through many options with his closest guards and come up blank.

Why did Auron immediately pop into Hadrian’s mind? “Uh...no, no I don’t know,” he said unconvincingly, his eyebrows taught with denial as he shoved Auron away from accusation.  _ He wouldn’t… _

Trajan may have doubted Hadrian’s stance on the matter but he said nothing, grunting low in his throat and casting his gaze onto Acilius. “A sad day for Rome’s mind,” he said, Hadrian sighing beside him and lowering his eyes to his feet.

A sad day, indeed.

Later that night after the ceremony of Acilius’s ended life, Hadrian found himself wandering the docks as he liked to do in Rome, his steps overlapping their cross of each other and making invisible x’s as he went. His mind was still spiraling and he was still fighting to contain it—to disprove the intrusive epiphany that had struck him.

How jealous was Auron? Just how jealous was he? Jealous enough to...to commit treason?  _ Hadrian, stop. It’s simply not him _ , his mind asserted, raging the same war of counterargument he’d been grappling with:  _ You just want to think that because he’s your twin. _

Amid his turmoil, he spotted the form of a young male belonging to Rome’s medical team teetering close to the edge of a shipless dock’s side, his gait somewhat staggered as though he’d been drinking the wine of the army.  _ What a responsible doctor _ , he sneered to himself, thinking that this fool’s robe of ‘apprenticeship’ still meant he should be held to the standard of a real doctor. How irresponsible were the apprentices of medicine? Had all of them drank tonight? Hadrian’s eyes narrowed to perhaps see him clearer but he was out of range of the torch pole, still a featureless shadow.

Hadrian would have kept walking but the boy cried out all of a sudden, his foot catching on an  iaculum fishing net which then caught on a giant nailhead securing that slat of wood to the foundation of the dock. Hadrian jogged closer but only in wait, watching what this boy could do for himself before he’d go running to his unnecessary rescue.

The boy appeared from the water with a gasp and reached up to free his foot, struggling to do so without the muscles to hold him in that awkward position and he fell back down, his leg ever kicking and jerking to hopefully free itself from the net it was entangled in. Ten seconds passed.

No, he was going to drown.

“For Jupiter’s mercy,” Hadrian muttered, removing his sword and outer armor gear from his body as he quickened his purposeful pace, keeping only his dagger in his hand to cut through the unintended trap threatening this stranger’s life.  _ The things I do… Wouldn’t any emperor do this, though? I have to be a hero for my people. Even my incredibly stupid people. _

He practically fell onto the dock and snatched the main line of net giving the trainee all this trouble, cutting through the material with ease and therefore sending all of the boy underwater. He exhaled and waited for the boy to come up since he’d been freed, but he realized after a few moments that he wasn’t going to be returning. He was just sinking now.

“You’re kidding,” he said to no one, diving straight from his knelt position into the black waters below, glad at least the boy had fallen in shallower waters than the center of the sea. Seeing was incredibly difficult and the water burned his eyes but he searched harder, using the only small lumination he received from the clear sky and large moon above.

He got close to the bottom and whipped around, grabbing onto a wooden pole that held up the dock and fitting himself under it to check that area. Miraculously, his hand grasped a wrist next, and he yanked the boy into his chest, getting an arm around him and wrangling him back through the confusing Y-formation of the under-dock structure to reach the surface.

It took a second but he succeeded, taking a large inhale of oxygen to replenish himself first before trying any crazy maneuvers. The boy still wasn’t responding so Hadrian worked quick, keeping one hand firmly around his thin wrist while he impressively flung his own body up onto the surface of the dock. An action Marcius would probably say “only he in this world could do” with overwhelming pride. He then turned himself around and reached down with his other hand, pulling the boy up with him by use of every muscle in his body.

Once the sopping boy was atop the dock, Hadrian’s ear went to his chest, grimacing at the lack of sound he heard and getting to work saving his life.  _ A soldier saving a medic. What a joke.  _ Once his own breath entered the trainee’s lungs for the third time, he burst awake, water comically shooting from his mouth like a whale as he croaked with and heaved the air around him.

“What were you doing?” Hadrian spat in distaste as he wiped his mouth, happy the idiot was alive but not so much pleased with his existence in general.

“I was…” the boy said, his eyes widening once he finally registered who was before him, soaking wet as well and evidently his savior. Hadrian. “Oh Gods, Hadrian!” he coughed, flipping over into a bow and whimpering in onset fear of what would happen to him now.

“Being brainless, that’s what. Do not drink again, and certainly stay away from the docks. You cannot be trusted to breathe on your own, much less be trusted to celebrate with wine,” he scolded, the boy’s head hanging down all the while.

“Yes, Hadrian. I owe you my everything,” he declared, his eyes flying westward when Hadrian lifted his chin up.

“You already owed me everything before that… Look at me,” Hadrian sighed, shaking the boy’s chin until he did so. Hadrian got a good look at his face so he wouldn’t forget which idiot to report to the active medics, taking note also of how attractive he found him. Boundless freckles, pale skin, green eyes like his own—he knew this boy’s lineage was not from around Rome but further north, perhaps Britannia. “Who exactly are you?” he asked in suspicion, desiring this boy’s story now that he’d observed him.

“My father’s father traveled to Rome long ago to escape persecution—from Northern Britannia,” he said, his breath still a little stressed from all the earlier excitement.

“I knew it,” Hadrian muttered to himself, egging the boy on by a soft shove.

“Then my mother reached Rome in the same way. And they found each other and here I am,” he finished, gesturing to himself as if to prove his existence.

“Great. Doing all this work to strengthen the borders and the Celts are busy populating my city,” he grumbled with a sigh, releasing the boy and standing to his feet, only reaching a few steps before he was called out for.

“You’re leaving?” the boy whined, somewhat sadly if Hadrian were to be asked but he didn’t care.

“Live an honorable Roman life, Northblood. Away from seawater,” Hadrian said with added amusement he worked to hide, resuming his walk and denying the impulse to turn and see the boy’s face. He could imagine the shame and disappointment just fine.

 

\---

 

Meeting after meeting was had in that location, and many troops were strategically sent off to certain areas of high enemy activity, Hadrian along with them on one occasion, but all was quiet when they arrived, all signs of a potential camp long gone. Whoever was in direct charge of their enemies these days was far better than any last commander the Gauls had—Hadrian wanted to meet him face to face. 

Though no enemies were met, one of his soldier’s legs was caught in an unexpected trap, shooting a spike through the top of his foot, and it was just Hadrian’s luck that Net-boy from last night was the first to run up and assist him. Hadrian hadn’t even known he had come along in this squad.

The soldier was taken to a hastily-made tent for him, and Hadrian followed in out of curiosity. He wanted to know if Net-boy would be of  _ any  _ good to Rome or not. As it were, the boy was able to dislodge and fully remove the rod without an excessive loss of blood, and the wound-dressing was expertly done as well.  _ I guess I’ll be glad I saved you this once. _

Trajan returned to Rome two days later and Hadrian waited two more days until he followed along, that damn medic boy ending up on his ship home, though he made a point not to talk to him. Hopefully he didn’t fall over the stern and lay his life down for the sea to swallow up again.

All and all, everyone would have to consider that an unsuccessful trip, the warriors staying behind to fight the Gauls from advancing further overshadowed by the utter lack of evidence to the general’s whereabouts. That was their main concern, where the general was hiding, because their inner spy vehemently attested to the fact that he never saw him in the city. Where then was he hiding and what was he planning to do from the shadows? The unanswered question haunted Trajan and Hadrian’s dreams.

Hadrian got all the sleep he could on the way home across the Ligurian Sea, knowing he didn’t have that long to do it once the day turned to night, and he was only granted a nightmare about his precious mentor Acilius, so it looked like sleep was a waste of his time.

He was called for once they reached the western shores, a full fifteen hours after setting off from the eastern ones, and he responded with a curt “Coming!” from the underdeck, stomping up the stairs to see Trajan, Marcius, and practically all the governors at once stood along the dock waiting for him.

_ This isn’t good.  _ Hadrian jogged then, his steps wide as he rushed down the ramp from the ship and forward until his feet hit dirt and he was breathing heavy before Marcius and Rome’s emperor. “What is it?” he asked, their grave faces spelling of a horror Hadrian clearly wasn’t going to enjoy hearing.

His mind immediately flew to the two people most important to his heart and he glanced around wildly for them, not finding either Sabina or Antinous among the crowd of people. He wasn’t about to think the worst so he asked again, assuming or guessing nothing until he understood what was going on. “What?”

“Hadrian,” Marcius said, stepping forward and gripping Hadrian’s shoulder as if to brace him for what was to come.

Hadrian still didn’t want to go to that dark place in his mind; he didn’t want to think someone extremely close to him had died, but it was getting hard to assume anything else was the case. They were being careful with him. Whatever had happened had directly affected him, he just didn’t know it yet. “Stop,” he pleaded, smacking Marcius’s hand off him because he didn’t need a coddle, he needed answers.

Marcius seemed to lose his nerve and he began to back off, but Trajan took his place like any strong emperor would, speaking plainly and informatively into Hadrian’s face. “Sabina and Antinous have passed away.”

Nothing.

There was nothing.

No longer was Hadrian standing on Roman dirt, no longer was Rome even a place. He wasn’t speaking with Marcius and Trajan, no such people had come to him. He was somewhere else now, very much else. He could not hear the soft waves of the sea behind him, nor could he see his world around him—none of it was left.

He’d never have a world again.

Sounds began to make their way into his ears after a time he didn’t care to track, and he began to feel a softness under his back. A blanket? He slowly cracked his eyes open to find a ceiling above him, and a doctor to his right, prodding at his neck and then leaning down to stare into his eyes.

“He’s awake,” the man said, his words ushering in Marcius and Trajan to the bedside.

“Hadrian?” Marcius asked, his hand automatically clasping over the top of Hadrian’s, whose arm was still glued to the blanket beneath him, same as the other one.

“Marcius, tell me...tell me that wasn’t…” Hadrian croaked, his mind already knowing the truth—they were gone. He wouldn’t be waking up to a doctor watching over him if they were perfectly fine.

“I’m so sorry,” Marcius whispered, his eyes showing a bounty of honesty since Antinous had been a huge part of his life as well. It hurt him, too.

Hadrian’s mind was still blank. It hadn’t hit him yet, but he wasn’t even realizing that. He knew nothing. Antinous was gone. Sabina and their child were gone. Three key ingredients to Hadrian’s life were just...gone. How? ...How? “ _How?”_ he growled without meaning to, Trajan taking over now since it was his duty to inform.

“They drowned,” Trajan said softly, his words turning Hadrian’s eyes to him. “They took part in our annual fishing festival for the upcoming feast, and they both somehow fell off the fishing boat. No one saw...but they realized they were not on the boat when they returned to land.”

Right away that sounded ridiculous. Both of his lovers just happening to accidentally topple over a large boat ledge while absolutely no one was looking. Was he really expected to believe that was the story? The  _ entire  _ story? “Who captained that boat? Who else was on that boat?” he inquired, his demeanor calm enough to make Trajan and Marcius both very uneasy. Both men knew Hadrian would not be calm forever.

“We brought them all in for questioning,” Trajan said, his head shaking back and forth with the speed of a tortoise. “Questioning the captain, Laelius, he informed of another—a third passenger who never made it back. The waters have been searched extensively, but no bodies have been found. Though there are witness accounts to all three individuals boarding the fishing longboat.”

“Then that passenger was the culprit,” Hadrian said right away, truthfully feeling like he didn’t have enough details yet to make that kind of conclusion, but his mind was running on its own right now.

Marcius gnawed on his lip nervously, as though he wanted to say something about that, but Trajan beat him to it, making Hadrian keep Marcius in his firstmost thoughts.

“I think so too,” Trajan agreed, nodding along and scratching at his beard. “That man was a former prisoner of Rome. He never should have been let on that boat in the first place. Not with those two on it as well. It could have been revenge for the time he served.”

“I’d like to speak with Marcius alone,” he said, Trajan shooting Marcius a short glare and subtle shake of his head before agreeing to Hadrian’s plea and taking his leave.

Once Marcius was sure Trajan had left, even peeking out the door to ensure he wasn’t still in the hall, Marcius swept quickly to Hadrian’s side, scooting in close so  _ no one  _ could potentially overhear.

“Auron was on that boat too,” he whispered, the meaning behind his statement cuttingly clear. Auron was his suspect.

“Then the third man?” Hadrian asked, not putting weight into anything until he’d had a long, hard think about it all.

“Was most likely set up. I spoke with his family and they were jittery—like they were terrified of saying too much. Their lives may have been in jeopardy if there was a failure to comply,” Marcius said quickly, still seeming like he was being quiet for the sake of outside listeners.

“You do realize what you’re suggesting…” Hadrian said, hoping Marcius knew the massive severity of his accusation and possible consequences if he was leading an investigation down the wrong path.

“I questioned Auron myself, Hadrianus,” Marcius said blankly, showing Hadrian he believed his conclusion to be from a place of intelligence and not rash and unconsidered bias. “He looked...his eyes were...elated.”

Hadrian huffed and grabbed the back of his hair, staring out the lookout of his room to the city beyond and holding his breath as he gave those words thought. He would need to speak with Auron himself and surely Marcius knew this, but even still, Hadrian trusted Marcius’s judgment very much. If Auron looked that way, he probably had without a doubt. Did that mean what Marcius thought it did?

“Leave,” Hadrian said, his order understood and not taken as an offense as Marcius bowed and swiftly exited his quarters. He needed time.

But the second he lost his company, that dark place came back.

And this time, the emotions that had been blocked the first time. His heart felt it now. Tears were already streaming down his cheeks with his next inhale of breath, and he surrendered himself to the depression that waited with its arms outstretched. He’d never get over this and he knew it. Hadrian died this day.

 

\---

 

It had been days of Hadrian’s non-eating, non-sleeping stupor. He could not sleep in his bed for it reminded him of being on it with both his lovers. He could not eat food lest he be reminded of all the times they’d shared meals together. Marcius and Trajan both had tried several times to shake him from the empty hole in his mind, but none could. 

He’d heard of Auron’s suspicious departure from Rome when he was called back for questioning before the whole council, but he couldn’t even care about that when it came down to it. He’d have time to care later. Right now all he could care about was the hole in his heart—in his purpose. His legacy. All destroyed. All irreplaceable.

And the last words they’d all shared...would never,  _ ever  _ be anywhere near enough. He regretted so fucking much, but what could he do? Wallow.

The only thing more tasteless than food and drink was air. He didn’t want to breathe anymore. It was disgusting, the very action. He felt dead. Life was void of every single fucking thing it used to be—anything that gave him a sliver of happiness. He hadn’t smiled in a very long time, nor had he laughed.

He attended meetings and went through his days like he was sleepwalking, like he was a corpse. He really did want to be one. It would feel absolutely no different than this shell of a life his has turned into. For six months he lived like this, aged twenty-two and feeling like he he’d lived thousands and thousands of meaningless years.

He feared not for his safety anymore, not in the slightest, so when news of a mission to receive stolen battle plans the overtaken Greeks had looted from the Gauls for the benefit of Rome—a mission that dripped with danger due to the stormy night waters they would traverse—he jumped at the opportunity. Anything that would put a little bit of risk onto his existence. Something that would prove he was real again. Make him afraid, if he could feel such a thing. Make him try and strive to live in the face of uncertainty. He needed that.

But more than that, if he would die, he would thank the Gods as he did. This trip would be a win-win situation for him. He just knew it.

Marcius was at the docks when he got there, striking as ever in his armor that usually reflected so much sunlight he was hard to see, but not today; today reeked of angered Gods. The skies were the darkest grey a midday afternoon had ever seen, and the winds were strong. Hadrian knew Marcius had waited here to try and talk him out of the trip once more, but if Trajan couldn’t make him stay, Marcius couldn’t either.

“Just think of Rome,” Marcius said, walking alongside Hadrian, who didn’t slow for him even for an instant.

“I am thinking of Rome, Marcius,” Hadrian muttered, blinking furiously against the harsh downpour of the rain. “Trajan cannot be compromised on a mission like this, and no one else can be trusted to get the plans back safely but I—not even you in the eyes of Trajan. These are very important documents, it’s bad enough they already had it in their hands, but what they didn’t know was a lot of the code we wrote it in...we’ll see what that matters when the time comes.”

“Just be safe, will you?” Marcius griped, knowing Hadrian had no control over the ship but needing to stress that order anyway.

“As safe as I can be, old fart,” Hadrian said, giving him a sideways glance before advancing onto the ship without him, not doing him the decency of looking back because he simply didn’t think about it.

He didn’t think about a lot these days.

Eventually all the crew was aboard and every passenger that was to travel to their destination, so the ship set off into the Tyrrhenian Sea to embark on this mission of retrieval. They’d make a stop at the southernmost pocket of this land where the gap stretched more than wide enough to pass through, then they would cross the Ionian Sea to Dokos. It would be a long journey, and one Hadrian already greatly appreciated because hopefully it would take him further into his mental dungeon, where he felt he deserved to be. One can only hope.

He settled in for more nightmare-filled sleep as the first rocks of the ship were felt in his spine, the rowers initiating their usual grunts of exertion to move the craft in proper Roman speed and fashion.

Surely hours and hours must have passed him by, further prolonging the heat that beat for no one, but he didn’t notice. His mind was on the mission and the battles ahead—he wanted war now more than ever. It is said that no great leader wishes for war, but Hadrian couldn’t help it. He wanted death and he wanted an honourable one at that, and war was the only way to get it. He’d fight the war with just himself if he had to.

Just get him out there. He’d inflict just as much as he was dealt, but he’d give up eventually. He knows it’s not right and he shouldn’t feel this way, but he wants to kill people. Every single day he grapples with the suffocating desire to do people harm, and maybe it’s not a real danger; maybe he’ll never really do it, and certainly not to Marcius or Trajan, but...but prisoners? Criminals? Lowlifes? Yes.

And certainly anyone and everyone that had anything to do with the deaths of his loved ones. He wanted to kill them most, and he wanted them to suffer.

Time would tell if he would get that exact chance or not. Time would tell if he’d get any chances at all ever again because as he was over at the stern of the longboat, he noticed an incoming swarm of enemy ships coming in from seemingly all angles at once.

_ Someone tipped them off, didn’t they? Someone who wants me dead? _

It most certainly looked like they would not be getting to that tiny, uninhabitable cough of old Greek land, but would they live through this encounter to go  _ anywhere _ ? Did it even matter?

“Hadrian, what do we do?” a frightened captain implored, his wary and panicked gaze hopping from ship to ship as he stood rigid as a board.

“The Gallic Empire is not hiding anymore, that’s for certain,” Hadrian mused boredly, meeting the captain’s eyes and shrugging his shoulders because what were they supposed to do with such terrible odds? Their odds of fighting their way out of this were practically evens. “Stand your ground, wait for their purpose,” he called to the deck of the ship, all nearby ears picking it up easily through the wind and passing the message along to anyone who may not have heard.

“Hadrianus!” a voice called, amplified no doubt by a brass pewter in his hands. Yup, and from the ship on Hadrian’s right, too. “Come with us or your crew dies.”

“I’ll come with you anyway!” Hadrian shouted back, ignoring the shocked gasps from the crew and the handful of military personnel he’d had with him. “Relax,” he told those particular men, “they can’t hurt me as much as they think they can.”

“You’d walk quietly into our hands?” the man across the water bellowed, seemingly in quite the shock over that fact.

“There’s something you want, which means you’re afraid. I’d be happy to find out what it is,” Hadrian shouted loud enough to be heard, watching the Gauls huff and puff over supposed ‘inaccuracy’ of his statement but he’d be willing to place a large sum of bet on his assumption. Kidnappings of people belonging in Hadrian’s stature didn’t happen until the people committing the crime  _ really  _ needed collateral.

“Get closer, I can’t jump that far,” Hadrian sassed, everyone around him friend and foe looking at him with an array of mixed emotions. There were too many to list out.

It was eerily quiet then as they rowed the ship just close enough to commandeer it and take Hadrian away. He didn’t move to greet them in any way but remained at his post sat atop a barrel, and waited for them to drag him off.

The soldiers went to attack the Gauls but Hadrian’s loud whistle cut them off, their faces full of confusion as Hadrian subtly shook his head to deter them from saving him. They must have assumed he had some master plan in his mind, but he really didn’t—he just needed this. “Tell Trajan I’ve been taken,” he said as parting words as he crossed the rickety stretch of wood connecting one longboat to the other, flinching only after reaching the Gallic one and getting a black sack shoved over his head so he couldn’t see.

“They won’t be telling Trajan a thing,” one of the men said, the one with only a few countable hairs atop his shiny head if Hadrian’s memory served him right.

“What?” Hadrian asked, turning his head toward the voice even if the black sack was thick enough to prevent any sight of the outside world.

Then came the screams.

The Gauls were killing his people anyway.

“This is  _ not  _ what I—”

“We’re not going by your terms, Hadrianus,” the man sneered, his voice right at Hadrian’s ear, the words slithering into his mind and filling him with regret. He should have fought. He should have cared more. Of course his people wouldn’t have been safe with only his surrender. He’d just killed everyone on that longboat.

“Let them go,” he ordered with more emotion in his voice than he’d heard from himself in probably half a year, the thought of being all those peoples’ ends already haunting his dreams and he hadn’t slept yet.

“No,” the voice said, his refusal sparking the reactions of flails and general struggle to course through Hadrian’s body until it was hit numerous times with the blunt ends of weapons.

“You savages,” Hadrian growled, forced to his knees as he smelled the beginning signs of smoke and the screams grew louder. He could even feel the heat on his skin. The Gauls really intended to leave absolutely no trace of them behind.

“Thanks. Trajan might guess it was us, but...we want to make things as hard as possible for your empire to find you,” the man said, the sound of rowers resuming their duty below reaching Hadrian’s overworking ears as the boat began to leave the last place he’d ever have seen those people alive.

_ What has my indifference allowed me to become?  _ he asked himself, sick of his thoughts but still unable to escape them. He really felt trapped now. If this couldn’t completely snap him out of his emptiness, surely nothing could. He really was dead.

This journey was the longest yet, for sleep would never come (it was never considered) and the stress was excruciatingly high. Not for himself, but what this meant for everyone back home as well. Evidently the Gauls were to be using Hadrian as a bartering chip to strike some sort of deal with Trajan, more like than likely regarding the territory lines and Rome’s consistent growth into their lands…

He actually understood it to a point, but why  _ he _ had to be in the middle of this mess was his issue with it all. He ignored the immediate future and focused on the present instead, noting how rotted the brig he’d been tossed into smelled. He wondered if there might be other dead bodies in here just like him, perhaps more unlucky Romans to cross these worthless scum—  _ Were they put up to this? _

That would change things. Gaul scavengers is one thing, and finding Hadrian was another, but just how calculated was this? Had this been planned for longer than he would guess? Was a Roman behind this? Who else knew about this meetup?

_ Was it Auron? _

Again with that question. But at this point, probably. He couldn’t imagine Auron without guilt for his awful life anymore. He’d learned too much. He’d suspected too much. He trusts his judgment and his instincts, and a lot of things pointed to Auron for a culprit of many unspeakable deeds. But for the love of Jupiter, did he really orchestrate this?

_ Why wouldn’t he? _

“Mind, we’ve talked about this, okay? Calm yourself. You can stop spiraling at any time now, the world won’t end,” he said aloud, causing at least one of the guards outside the brig gate to scoff at his behavior.

“Are you nuts?” he asked, his voice lathered with disgust.

“Now, now, that’s no way to treat such an honored guest, is it?” a new voice cooed, sounding pleasant but snooty and all too entitled.

“Apologies, Michael.”

_ Michael? Do I know of a Michael? _

“That’s quite alright. Just treat him decently. I’m going back to Rome now,” the mysterious Michael announced, the other guards sputtering in confusion.

“We’re at sea now,” they said, as if mentioning some unknown secret.

“Yes, I’m aware. I have my ways,” Michael chuckled, his fingernails drumming on one of the bottom edges of the cell door’s classic black squares if Hadrian had felt those correctly earlier...and if those were indeed Michael’s nails. He really wanted to see. “Shame, you know. You’re pretty, too,” he said, footsteps walking away telling Hadrian the strange man was now gone.

“Who was that?” he asked, rolling his eyes behind closed lids when the guards standing watch over him said absolutely nothing in response.

Maybe he wouldn’t ever know who Michael was, then. Maybe it wouldn’t matter anyway because maybe he was dying the minute he got to his destination. Just like he wanted.

It is what he wanted...right?

The ship had come to a stretch of land Hadrian hadn’t seen, but it was not a hard guess as to where they might be. Lands of the Gallic Empire’s territory, just northeast of Rome’s owned land, and not  _ terribly  _ far from Rome itself, he would wager a bet on that. He was immediately snatched by two burly men once the ship was properly docked and yanked from the brig up to the main level, and now they were on their way...to wherever he was being taken.

Hadrian made himself as heavy as possible as he was dragged to an unknown location from the two heavyweight Gauls on either side, his head still covered with that black sack so he didn’t know where he was. It was more than anything extremely annoying he’d been put in this position, and he wasn’t about to let the one responsible off easy.

He just had some escape route shit to figure out first.

So wait, did he want to live now?

Eventually their walking took a noticeable decline, as if walking down _ into _ somewhere, and when his feet began to get knocked down a flight of stairs he hadn’t anticipated, he fought back against the pain. It was hard to regain his balance now that he’d let it go.

“Quit squirming, sweet Roman, we’ll let ya go soon.”

“Get your hands off me!” Hadrian snapped when that serpentine voice’s hands pet his hair, flailing his arms for the last time before the sack was removed from his head and he was quite literally thrown into a dungeon of laughably wretched conditions, accompanied by the metallic slamming of the gate behind him before he could even turn around. “Do you know what I could do to you? The power I have?” he bellowed, racing toward the balding Gaul that attacked him first and shoving his arm through the gap in the bars to strangle him to death, alas for naught. He couldn’t help his anger—he would not forgive the murdering of his people any time soon.

“What can you do from behind a cage, little beauty?” the Gaul chuckled with a sickening grin, yellowed and mangled teeth only adding to his dastardly appearance. “Rome’s not gonna have any power if your life is at stake.”

“You doubt how many governors hate me,” Hadrian snorted, knowing that if Trajan wasn’t around, he’d most likely be a dead man walking right now no matter what.  

“We’ll see,” the Gaul said as he picked at his frizzy beard, giving the dungeon bars a kick of his foot as he sauntered off, taking the torch with him and leaving Hadrian in only the sliver of moonlight from the small lookout near the ceiling. Not big enough for a cat to squeeze through, much less a human.

“Bastards!” Hadrian shouted into the emptied hall, giving fruitless tugs of the metal bars that enslaved him just to  _ try _ when he really wanted to give up. “You will answer to Rome eventually! Mark my words!” It wasn’t making him feel any better to yell at no audience so he huffed and backed away from the bars, leaning against the rock wall to his left and deciding to use the time to think up a plan for escape. Surely that was possible somehow.

At least this was entertaining.

‘Entertaining’ took quite a sharp turn at that point, though, as a voice unexpectedly spoke out from inside his cell, a predatory utter from the darkest corner of the cramped dungeon area. The timbre and soothing horror of the voice stabbed Hadrian straight in the gut, but even stranger was the message behind the words, begging to be questioned and sparking alive Hadrian’s ill-placed fascination: “Oh...this’ll be  _ fun _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh Michael. Yes, Michael. That Michael, duh. It happened early on, before all the Alex / Hadrian stuffs in England and France and stuff. Do you know what I'm talking about? Can you remember that far back? Yeah, it was going on before then, Michael being around Auron. Don't @ me, just take it.
> 
> Also, uh...I mean I guess that's all. This will probably turn into one of those notes I mentioned earlier that just sounds so cringe if and when I look back on it in the future. 
> 
> Cool. 
> 
> I'll see you next time. Which is actually soon this time.


	8. Singing Cures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh boy. Hadrian as we know him as upon us, whohoohophohphop. Sweet. Bout time. This is closer to my usual chapter lengths, I think. I'm enjoying this era of his existence a lot, so there's a lot of shit to fill the upcoming chapters with >:)

“Who goes there!” Hadrian demanded into the darkness, showing strength first in the place of fear because as a future emperor, being afraid was not a good impression to make, and it could be a dangerous one. 

“Your greatest asset or most horrendous downfall—I haven’t decided yet,” the stranger replied, still sharing a hefty amount of curious interest in his tone.

That voice, though. Hadrian hated it; he hated everything about it. It was deep and honey-like, sweet and enticing, but the fear it struck was unmatched as well. It made him want to go to it, to wrap himself up in it and have it around him for the rest of his days, and it also terrified him to a point of immobile stasis. He wanted to run but he knew he couldn’t, wanted to approach but knew he shouldn’t. Just who was he in this cell with? “Show yourself,” he said out of a moment of bravery, chancing everything just to get a glimpse if he could. An answer to the question of the voice.

At first he couldn’t see his cellmate, not in that far corner in such darkness, but when the shadows began to move, his muscles locked even tighter. He was real, after all. It didn’t take many steps for his company to reach the sliver of moonlight, and Hadrian could have had a heart attack when he did. For what in this world were his eyes gazing upon?

It was a man, or at least the figure of a man, with beautifully dark skin and a long tan robe open in the front to reveal a smooth chest and torso, the same colour underwear upon his hips, no shoes on his feet, and an amulet around his neck. His dreaded hair was half down to his navel, half up atop his head confined in a large bun, and his  _ face _ . His  _ eyes _ . Words couldn’t describe those. His eyes were ancient if eyes could be so, and they burned into his; they appeared mythical in a way, as though this were the stuff of tales. It wasn’t quite possible, but Hadrian doubted it not. There was no way, no possible chance, that this man before him was one of Hadrian’s own kind. Humans did not look like this.

Was this a God?

“What are you?” Hadrian asked bravely, catching the raising of the stranger’s eyebrows in response to the question. The stranger gave a small smile but he was careful not to show his teeth, and the quick spit he made off to the side was an action Hadrian noted down in his thoughts to use for piecing him together later.

“I like that question,” the stranger noted, stepping closer to Hadrian and causing his spine to push further into the wall behind him. “I usually get ‘Who’.”

Hadrian watched as the stranger played with rings on his own fingers, the digits dainty yet nerve-wracking as if they’d killed thousands of men. The stranger made another spit from his mouth and Hadrian eyed the action, thinking it excessive in such a short time span but focusing more on the aspect of his presence as he inched closer still. “Should I ask who...or are you going to tell me what,” Hadrian mumbled, his confidence shivering like his skin as he began to detect the stranger’s scent with his proximity—a scent that was very hard to describe, but very similar in theory to the vocal aspect of him. Entrancing.

This  _ had  _ to be a God.

“I am a thing,” the stranger replied, flipping some of the long ropes of his hair over his shoulder and crossing the distance between them, the moon having shifted enough in the sky to allow Hadrian to catch the stranger’s features even outside of the moonlit section of the cell. “A thing called Azazel.”

“Azazel,” Hadrian repeated to make sure he got it right, choking on his next breath when Azazel finally smiled, his upper canine teeth impossibly sharp and long, resting down over his lower ones. None of Hadrian’s Gods were named Azazel. “Wha—what...um,” he stuttered with a quiver, swallowing thickly when his nervousness seemed to please the monstrosity before him. “I’m—my name is…”

“Yes, Hadrian. It’s a pleasure,” the being said, splashing cool water over Hadrian’s earlier freeze.

“You know me?” Hadrian asked, not  _ that  _ surprised that someone would recognize the emperor-to-be of Rome, but there was no doubt that this being was not from around here at all. He just wondered where his knowledge was coming from.

“Yes, I know who you are, Hadrianus of Rome. I’ve heard a great many thing about you and the bloody trail following behind you,” Azazel said with a smirk, evidently referencing Hadrian’s parents, his truest love, and pregnant wife, all now lost forever to Dīs Pater.  

“Then you know I can’t truly rest until I get my revenge on the ones who killed them, so I can’t die here or let you threaten me,” Hadrian said with a mysterious bout of courage, keeping his composure as Azazel barked out laughter of amusement. Or was it the laughter of someone who was impressed?

“I told you things would be fun—why would I kill you now?” Azazel asked logically, shrugging his shoulders when Hadrian gawked at him in irritated confusion. “If I wanted you dead, Hadrian,” he said, suddenly appearing before Hadrian when he’d been several steps away before, wrapping an arm around his lower back and leaning in as Hadrian bent backward in fear. “I’d have had you by now,” he informed, domineering over Hadrian for a few awful seconds more before letting him go and spitting once again toward the corner of the dungeon.

Was Hadrian going absolutely insane or did he for some reason  _ want  _ this man’s saliva? It sounded nuts, for what would he do with it, but it seemed a waste to just discard the substance like that and he had no idea why he would think that. “So if you won’t kill me, what will you do with me?” he asked, watching as Azazel snorted and gazed through the small opening of window on the opposite wall, and then turned his eyes back on him.

“I want to give you something—but first, I want you to tell me your life story. After I hear it, I’ll decide whether you’re worth receiving what I have to give,” Azazel said, taking a seat on the so-far-unused bench that was built into the stone quarters.

“How are you so sure I want what you’re offering?” Hadrian asked dubiously, thinking it presumptuous and disrespectful to him that someone could act that full of themselves and their tokens. Hadrian wanted nothing but revenge and then oblivion. This life of his was already over as far as he was concerned.

“Oh, trust me, little one...you’ll want it,” Azazel said surely as he returned to stand before Hadrian, gripping his chin and tilting his face up so the moonlight rays illuminated it, brushing his thumbs over both of his cheekbones. “I can already see it in these eyes,” he murmured, giving Hadrian a smile of endearment and licking one of his sharp fangs as he pulled away and returned to his spot.

_ He’s not a human, but if he’s not a God...what monster is this?  _

“Fine,” he agreed, delving headfirst into his life story as he’d been asked and trying to tell it in the most sequential and concise way he was capable of. He spent a lot of time on Auron and as little time as possible on the ones he’d lost even if that’s all his mind was filled with; he spoke of being groomed for emperor and the trials that went with that, his fierce drive to protect Rome from its enemies (with the ultimate goal being the catching of the specific criminal who’d uprooted his own life), and everything in-between that would mean enough to him to mention.

Azazel stayed quiet the whole time, patiently taking in the information he was given, and when Hadrian’s words drifted off into quietude, he let out a hum, meeting his eyes and smirking like he usually did if this was to be considered his normal behavior—certainly seemed that way so far. “Sounds like your brother is a bit of a nuisance,” he mused, his nearly victorious grin seeming odd to Hadrian, but so did everything else about him. It was easy to ignore.

“He’s vindictive and cunning—manipulative—he’s turned into a complete asshole, but...he’s my brother and I love him. Technically I was never supposed to rule. I can’t really imagine how he feels, I just wish he’d stop fucking blaming me for everything. Holding it against me when it hadn’t been my wish. It’s not fair,” he rambled freely, taking this rare chance to unveil his inner frustrations and really get it all out. Who did he have to grumble about Auron with these days? No one.

“But you are a natural leader,” Azazel noted, offering no examples or reasonings for why he’d made that conclusion. “More so than Auron.”

“How would you know? I only spoke of my side—you should know there’s always another. To you, Auron may be different than I paint him to be,” Hadrian said, wise enough to know biases and personal perspectives did not make up a person. Only the person themselves could do that.

“I’m going to ask you a series of questions—answer them honestly, and I think you’ll understand what they lead to,” Azazel said, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back against the wall. Apparently they would be here for a while.

“What is it?” Hadrian asked, squatting down to the straw-covered floor and letting himself fall back onto his butt, his arms locked around his knees, one hand firmly holding his wrist.

“Where was Auron each time something bad happened to you?” Azazel asked, his head tilted as he studied Hadrian from across the cell.

Hadrian sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away from Azazel as he let his lungs expel the air, and reopened his eyes to stare down as much of the hallway as he could see. “Don’t make me think about that. I always come to a conclusion I don’t like.”

“Who said you have to like the conclusion?” Azazel said in a small tone, the sound like a mutter but a soft one without annoyance.

“What, you want me to go around fully suspecting my twin brother of murdering everything I’ve ever loved?” Hadrian scoffed, his skin beginning to heat just thinking about it because his inner,  _ innermost _ self already knew. Auron was beyond guilty. But without proof, Hadrian had allowed himself to somewhat stay in denial. Now this non-human stranger was pushing him toward a land without doubt and he didn’t exactly want to go there.

Azazel frowned, stretching his arms out to gesture to their surroundings. “How do you think the Gauls knew where you were going? Someone told them—someone close to someone around you.”

Well, that was vague. But Hadrian did wonder...who the fuck around him would be feeding information about his whereabouts? And was the messenger really taking this information to Auron? He had a lot to figure out. “How do you appear to know so much about this?” Hadrian asked, engaging in a bit of accusation because having never met this creature, he knew a lot more than most strangers would.

“You humans and your sad, sad levels of intelligence,” Azazel scoffed, standing off his bench and pointing a finger at Hadrian to bring him under fire. “You think that’s an advanced conclusion to come to? Auron is ruled by jealousy of you, and he obviously doesn’t consider you much of what he used to, but because you won’t think of this logically, he has gotten away with much more than he would have if you’d just paid attention to things.”

“‘You humans’?” Harry asked instead of responding to Azazel’s point, that part standing out too much not to be addressed. He’d assumed as much, but to hear it admitted so plainly...

“Do I seem human to you?” Azazel asked with a raise of his left brow, coming back under the moonlight and pulling Hadrian into him, pivoting so the rays shone right onto his own face. “Look at me,” he instructed, spitting off to the side before leaning in and making direct eye contact with Hadrian as he displayed his sharp teeth—nay, fangs.

Hadrian peered helplessly into the golden-yellow irises of Azazel’s eyes, gaze drifting to the enticing fangs below because he couldn’t help wanting to feel them on him, in his skin.  _ What?  _ Was that a normal desire? Maybe not at surface value, but was it normal with Azazel? Hadrian found himself obviously taking in the monster’s scent, still practically drooling over his fangs, and Azazel seemed to enjoy the attention. Hadrian guessed his reaction to proximity was normal, then. “No, but…it’s just that...nothing. I already knew you weren’t human.”

“Then stop treating me like one,” Azazel said lowly, both arms snaking around Hadrian’s back and one hand sliding into his hair before he could try to wriggle away. “I can give you power, Hadrian. I can help you dispose of him...I can help you dispose of anyone— _ everyone  _ standing in your way. Give yourself to me for just a minute, and you can rule over Rome forever,” he said, his offer tempting in a way but nonsensical since forever wasn’t much of an attainable goal.

Would Hadrian even want forever? Well...even if he didn’t want it, he probably deserved forever didn’t he? Being the useless failure that he was. “No one has forever,” he said anyway with a shake of his head, his eyes widening when Azazel’s hand tangled harshly into his curly locks and he leaned in closer to share the very same air.

“I do,” Azazel whispered darkly, evidently tired of being doubted but how could Hadrian accept these words? “Choose wisely because it’s rare that I do this...but you’re more than worthy of my immortality. I will give it to you,” he said, stroking the back of Hadrian’s neck with his thumb and making him shiver.

“Immor...tality,” Hadrian sighed, in an odd position because Azazel’s skin on his own was like a dream but his words were extremely shocking and worrying at the same time. Was immortality truly possible? Could this being give it to him? If not him, no one likely could. If there was ever going to be an existence to grant such a wish, it would be Azazel. With immortality came great power, right? Enough power to destroy all who ever opposed him? To hunt down the culprit of all his heartbreak? Wasn’t accepting the only choice to make here?

“Yes, little one. Shall you choose it, I will give you myself. I’ll turn you away from the fleeting existence you possess now. You will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine, and nothing will ever hurt your loved ones again, shall you find more.  _ Nothing  _ will even  _ try _ ,” Azazel said, selling his offer expertly and filling Hadrian’s head with fantasies of being untouchable and invincible just like he’d wanted to be his entire life.

“Your species,” Hadrian said distractedly, eyes drifting down and studying Azazel’s fangs, which he exposed further by grinning at him. “Will I get those…” he asked in a trance, finding it nearly impossible to deny the impulse to push himself further into Azazel and get closer to those sharp daggers of teeth. “What do they do?” he asked out of curiosity, gasping when Azazel walked them back against the wall and used his own body to trap Hadrian there.

“Are you curious? Shall I show you?” Azazel asked into Hadrian’s ear, lips just barely brushing against the lobe of it while Hadrian’s spine jolted in confused pleasure.

“Yes,” Hadrian automatically said, his eyes rolling back as he naturally bared his neck, hardly noticing the action at all.

“Is that your final answer?” Azazel asked first, apparently wanting Hadrian to know precisely what he was agreeing to.

Hadrian only thought it over a moment longer, taking all he’d offered into consideration and deciding he’d deal with possible consequences later. Forever didn’t seem like such a bad thing if it meant he could enact all the murder he felt in his cold, dead heart, nor did ultimate power in his very palms. “Yes, Azazel. Yes.”

“Good boy,” Azazel said, gripping the back of Hadrian’s head as he dove in, but for what was a mystery.

Oh.

“Shit!” Hadrian gasped, already close to coming from the undeniable feeling of Azazel’s teeth in his neck, lost yet satisfied beyond measure that their interaction had come to this. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt and Azazel seemed to know that, letting Hadrian squeeze and scratch at his skin at will, not even minding that Hadrian was rutting against him. “Azazel, I’m gonna…” he breathed, unable to finish that statement but Azazel addressed it as is and took a second from his drinking to grunt in approval, clearing the path for Hadrian to come as hard as he wanted, so he did. “Ng— _ Azazel _ ,” he moaned, his following whines high-pitched as his orgasm tumbled over its peak, his groin dampening with his release. It was the strongest orgasm he’d ever had, and it had happened with almost no contact. Impressive.

Azazel pulled off at that moment and gasped for breath, grinning down at Hadrian with blood-stained teeth. “How was that?” he asked the somewhat unresponsive Hadrian, lowering them both down to the ground and situating Hadrian to lie sideways on his lap against his chest.

“Azazel,” Hadrian moaned without having any sort of sentence to back that up, curling into the one who had given him such mind-blowing sensations and willingly surrendering himself to whatever Azazel wanted to do with him next. As long as it involved feeling Azazel’s fangs again at some point.

“Would you like to become one of mine?” Azazel asked, gently brushing his claws across Hadrian’s scalp to get his hair out of the way.

“Yes,” Hadrian said blindly, not even thinking about what that might mean but loving the sound of it enough to agree without a second thought. He was floating in Azazel’s arms, intoxicated from the beauty of his effects and touches, being sung to by Azazel’s strong heartbeat beside his ear, and nothing could go wrong in the world. Speaking of the world, it barely even existed anymore. Nothing did but Azazel.

“Take this, child,” Azazel instructed, his wounded wrist suddenly just before Hadrian’s face. He hadn’t even realized Azazel had started bleeding. When could that have happened?

Hadrian somehow understood he meant to take it into his mouth, so he opened it obediently, and the first drop of blood that hit his tongue was more powerful than all the thunder in the sky.  _ What in the fuck!  _ He cried out and tried to wrench away from it but Azazel shushed him, holding his head to his wrist and pressing his skin directly to his lips, forcing the fiery liquid down his throat.

“It’s okay,” Azazel promised, making sure he maintained eye contact as he spoke. “Just drink. You will be fine, child.”

Hadrian didn’t believe that at first, because it felt like he was actually dying, but something about Azazel’s eyes convinced him otherwise, their gleam settling his mind’s worries and leading him to peace. He truly believed he would be fine, so he let his throat relax, purposefully swallowing all the blood in his mouth and letting it flow through the rest of his body, ignoring the searing pain because there was far more pleasure in Azazel’s eyes to focus on.

Then came the energy. It started weakly, registering in his core and buzzing as it traveled through his veins and tensed his muscles. It felt like some kind of snake with numerous heads, all slithering their way through his bones and turning off his sparks of life, extinguishing every morsel of light they found. Was this really not death?

“Let it happen, Hadrian. Just relax,” Azazel said above his mental blabbering, once again breaking through instinct and guiding Hadrian to pure calm.

Hadrian did smoothly for the remainder of that time until the snakes reached his heart. Then he was concerned. His heart tensed like it was caught in a death grip, speeding and faltering as his body erupted into panic until all of a sudden, it stopped. His heart stopped. He  _ felt it stop _ and he was still here. Then it started beating again like nothing had happened. Was any of this real at this point?

“That’s it, my child,” Azazel said with a happy and proud grin, caressing Hadrian’s hair with his free hand. “ _ There _ you are—wonderful,” he praised in a breath, inspecting his face and hands as Hadrian tried to comprehend what exactly was changing within him. It was clearly different, but what...

Hadrian had so many questions but the movement in his gums distracted him, a pulling sensation occurring right where his canines were—was this what he thought it was? He didn’t realize he’d done this, only after his teeth pierced Azazel’s skin did he know he’d bitten him, but Azazel only hummed in satisfaction, looking upon him with pride as he earnestly drank from him, able to pull an unbelievable amount from the flesh due to his embedded teeth.

“Magnificent fangs, look at you,” Azazel said, even pushing the corner of Hadrian’s top lip upward to clearly see where his fangs were buried in his own arm. “My beautiful creation.”

Hadrian had only half the mind to listen to such words, still overwhelmed with the energizing sustenance he was currently consuming. It was delicious, a strong flavour but all around pleasant, and he knew he’d always want to drink this. Was drinking blood a normal thing to desire? No, but he wasn’t normal anymore, was he?

“Now let go,” Azazel instructed, holding a hand over Hadrian’s forehead and pulling his wrist from his mouth, Hadrian trying to follow after it but of course the purposeful hand stopped him.

“That—” Hadrian gasped, feeling at his fangs with careful fingers and widening his eyes when he saw the definition in his hand. His eyes had transformed into two lenses of perfection that could see detail in just about everything, from his hand to the tiny bumps in the metal bars on the other side of the cell. “What has happened to me?” he wondered, his every sense discovered to be insurmountably stronger than before. He could hear things outside, hear Azazel’s heartbeat like a continuous gong beside him, smell the blood he’d ingested everywhere in his sinuses. Even his skin seemed to  _ feel  _ things differently—everything was softer, the cold floor beneath him not as hard and cold as it had been. But it was  _ far  _ too much at once.

“I gave you myself,” Azazel replied, watching on in pride as Hadrian rolled out of his lap and smelled, listened, felt, and stared to his heart’s content. “It may be overwhelming, but that will pass with time and experience.”

“It  _ is  _ overwhelming,” Hadrian gasped, covering his ears for the first time because it was far too surreal to hear sounds outside the dungeon so well. Would he ever be at peace again? His mind was body were working overtime to a degree beyond imagination, and he ran from it with nowhere to go, traveling to different corners of the cell and crouching down to hide in plain view of his company. He just wanted the sounds to stop, more than anything.

Azazel seemed to wait for him to get used to his perception, sitting down and merely watching as Hadrian skirted every which way, never interrupting or making any kind of suggestions.

Hadrian was the one to break that peace, though, and when it all got to be too much, he ran desperately into Azazel’s chest, surprising himself with the action but Azazel didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around him, shushing him methodically and petting his spine.

“I know, Hadrianus. I know,” Azazel cooed, covering one of Hadrian’s ears with his hand and keeping the other of his head firmly against his chest so the only constant penetrating sound to reach him was his heartbeat.

Hadrian melted into the embrace and focused his all on the slow pounds of Azazel’s heart—its volume was obscenely loud, and one might think that would make his oversensitivity much worse, but its rhythm was more therapeutic than anything and he quickly found himself almost emotionally attached to the noise. It had put order and harmony back into his life in a time of utter chaos.

“Good boy, Hadrian. Just relax,” Azazel encouraged, sneaking one of Hadrian’s wrists up to his nose while he wasn’t paying attention and swiftly biting into the skin to help him calm that much further.

Hadrian gasped and moaned when that feeling from before returned, his eyes darting up to witness Azazel’s mouth wrapped around his forearm and fangs nearly touching his inner bone. He didn’t mind. It felt  _ so  _ good. He closed his eyes and returned to the safety of Azazel’s heartbeat, pleasurable fire spreading throughout his lower half as he surrendered to yet another climax. He would never get used to that.

Azazel let him go at some point, he couldn’t tell when, but eventually a fog somewhat cleared in his mind and he was able to pull back on his own, holding his forehead as his brain seemed to bounce around in his skull. “Azazel what...what  _ is this _ ,” he breathed as he directionlessly walked around the dungeon, running his hands over his own face, hair, and chest in fascination. Without his overbearing senses dragging him down quite like before, he now felt powerful enough to run straight through the stone wall and come out on the other side, and he had a severe drive to cause a lot of destruction. It wasn’t all unwelcome, but he wanted answers.

“I told you, you’ll figure it out as you go,” Azazel said, suddenly snapping his fingers and beckoning him right back to his lap. “Come here, Hadrian. You’re gonna need your maker for this.”

Hadrian furrowed his brows and slowly approached his ‘maker’, sitting down before him and letting himself get pulled and situated into his lap. “For what?”

“Your heart’s time is almost up—my blood burns fast in children’s veins, and I just fed off you on top of that,” he informed, gingerly holding Hadrian’s cheek and then placing that same palm on his chest just over his heart.

“Heart’s time? What…” Hadrian trailed, taking a moment to notice his heart was struggling to beat, his panic from earlier returning with a vengeance now that Azazel’s fangs weren’t distracting him. “Azazel.”

“I’m afraid blood only gives you the illusion of life,” Azazel said apologetically, holding Hadrian tighter when he began to squirm. “Your natural state is a bit different. And for you children, unfortunately it’s very stressful, but there are ways to endure, and there’s always a way to cure it, so be prepared,” he said, bending down and pressing his lips to Hadrian’s forehead, smoothing the lines of worry that had formed there.

“Help,” Hadrian sniffed weakly, his withering heartbeat striking him with so much more than fear—emptiness. Emptiness that hurt, unlike the kind he’d thought he wished for amid his depression. He’d take that all back, because this isn’t what he’d meant by wanting oblivion. He held Azazel tighter as the beats reached their last batch of the song, smashing his face into his maker’s robes and trying to find comfort in the covering embrace he received. It was hard to find comfort when you were actively dying. A few more beats and the heart within him stopped, the blood stilling in his veins and then seeming to physically burn away to leave him with nothing, lungs giving up the intake of air, skin turning cold, everything but his brain shutting off. And he was still here.

Torture.

“This is the real you, child. This is your kind,” Azazel said softly, idly playing with Hadrian’s hair as he continued to hide in his robes. “I know it hurts. I’m sorry.”

Hadrian didn’t know what to do. A large part of him wanted to cry but he also didn’t think he could. There were many times over the last six or so months that he prayed and wished for death, for an unfeeling, invincible type of existence where nothing mattered anymore, but he hadn’t meant this. He felt more incomplete than he could ever explain, more incomplete than when his reasons for breathing were ripped away from him—when he’d lost his heart the first time, it may have felt like this to his mind...but  _ this feeling _ ? No. This was very different.

“Do you regret giving yourself to me?” Azazel asked calmly, not sounding like he’d be upset by any answer Hadrian had to give.

“What is there to enjoy?” Hadrian croaked, his voice sounding as lifeless as his body, rolling just enough out of Azazel’s torso to look him in the eyes. Those eyes of warmth and comfort even in the coldest of times.

“Power beyond your wildest dreams, and the cure. There is an antidote to your state of death, Hadrian,” Azazel whispered, Hadrian’s eyes widening as wide as they could go as the concept blasted through his thoughts, igniting every rotten bud of hope he had forsaken.

“What is it?” Hadrian asked, his fist curling into Azazel’s robe as he dragged it toward him, though that had no effect on Azazel’s actual body.

“You’ll know when you find it,” Azazel said as he poked Hadrian’s nose, his grin at Hadrian’s frustration pissing him off quite a bit but they both knew it was empty anger. “Let your instincts guide the way, Hadrian, they will be hard to miss—they will rule over you. Give yourself to your nature—that is how you will find the cure.”

Hadrian was still confused for a few more seconds, but his nose then picked up the strong scent of a healthy guard approaching the dungeon—the same man who had put him here—and something sparked deep within him. His nose chased that scent desperately and his eyes rolled back in his head, his back arching as he slowly rolled out of Azazel’s lap and into a predatory kneel.

“That’s right, my creation—feed your desire,” Azazel egged on, reaching forward to massage the sides of Hadrian’s arms and place a kiss in his center back before he scooted away from him and more to the side. “Take all that you want.”

The doors to the dungeon area blasted open then like they’d both anticipated them to, and that pair of footsteps traveled down the corridor toward their cell. Any second now. Hadrian’s senses were on the highest alert as he listened to the flowing of the intruder’s blood through his veins. The man smelled divine. Perfect. He smelled like prey. Prey to consume.

“Good boy,” Azazel whispered quietly, still petting Hadrian’s spine as he unknowingly began to make a low hiss sound from his throat, his saliva dripping from his fangs as they sharpened to full length and yearned to pierce flesh. “You’re just how I wanted you,” he continued in a low murmur, Hadrian too focused on the human in the area to notice he was being studied and complimented.

“O’ Great Hadrian,” the guard sang as he neared, Azazel’s presence backing away into the corner to observe from the darkness. “Our master would like to speak to you,” the guard continued, appearing on the other side of the gate and giving Hadrian a full view of his blood-filled body. He jangled his keys in the lock of the cell door and didn’t glance once into the cell to check on Hadrian before he opened the cell door, therefore missing the fact that its prisoner was in a predatory stance and waiting for his moment to strike.

Hadrian didn’t find his behavior odd even from an objective standpoint. He knew from the scent and his body’s reaction to it that blood was the cure to his emptiness. If blood could give him life, blood was what he was going to get. As much of it as he could from as many sources as possible. The guard slipped into the cell and squinted into the darkness, able to make out Hadrian’s form but not his features. And he never got time to see that either.

With the speed of the same snakes that had invaded Hadrian’s body, he descended upon the guard, sharp claws on both hands he hadn’t noticed digging into his skull and shoulder to push apart and expose his neck, and fangs slamming into his flesh to unlock that maroon joy from earlier. And this blood was  _ so much more  _ delicious than Azazel’s.

Both beings moaned at the bite for much different reasons, and Hadrian’s drinking was rushed and fatal, chasing life so fast that he had ended his prey’s before he could even try to stop it. And it wasn’t enough. He needed more. Now. Without a care to his first prey, he threw the body aside and sprinted down the hall, following his nose for the next source of life in a separate area of the dungeon than his own, and pouncing on that human before they even turned around, smashing through their cell gate to do it. A prisoner who shared that cell began to scream to see his mate under attack, but he was next to die, Hadrian’s need of life topping any rights they could possibly have to live themselves.

He continued on this murderous path until the entire dungeon had been disposed of human life, his own heart now racing in his chest and giving him a level of satisfaction he hadn’t counted on. It felt amazing—like a dream. It felt like everything he’d ever wanted and more. It was almost good enough to turn him on. In fact, it had.

He let out a shaky breath and collapsed onto his knees, falling toward the ground until he placed one hand onto the ground to balance him, the other hand shamelessly sliding down to feel his groin and put pressure on his growing erection. He couldn’t really help it. This feeling was inherently orgasmic.

“When you are matured, you are going to be the most beautiful child of us in this world,” Azazel suddenly said, pulling Hadrian’s gaze to him. His maker was leaned against the open cell door with his arms and ankles crossed, innocently holding a blood-dripping human heart in his hand, and his equally uncaring bite out of it made Hadrian cringe. That was not a drive he shared.  

Aside from the term ‘us’ that he let fade out of his thoughts, Hadrian’s only concern was the heart factor, so he addressed that with all his curiosity. “You are eating that heart,” he stated obviously, making Azazel’s gaze dart between Hadrian and the heart in his palm.

“Do you want to try it?” Azazel asked in surprise, holding it out for Hadrian but he only shook his head to refuse. “Didn’t think so—none of you ever want to.”

The subject of hearts caught Hadrian’s attention and he furrowed his brows, pointing over at Azazel’s chest as he painstakingly sat back on his heels. “Your heart always beats. Why is that?”  

Azazel seemed about to answer, but additional scents of living, breathing humans reached Hadrian’s nose and he groaned in want, falling back toward the ground and using his hands to brace himself as he panted toward the backs of his hands. “I need more,” he said breathlessly, already feeling a tiny tug on his heart that merely reminded him of its temporary movement.

“Of course you do,” Azazel said, snorting as he discarded the half-eaten heart and approached Hadrian to help him up. “Go feast,” he said when he got his creation to his feet, gesturing back toward the way they came where the exit lay waiting to be traversed. “I’ll look after you.”

Hadrian didn’t wait any longer and sped off to the outside world, only mildly curious why he would need to be looked after. He was pretty sure he was going to be fine.

For the next half hour, Hadrian lay waste upon the prison territory of the Gaul army, ripping and tearing at flesh to win his extension of life, experiencing the wide variety of blood flavours as he went and finding he had favourites. He didn’t know why certain bloods would taste better than others, probably to do with diet, but the richer ones who clearly ate meat had far better a twist than the poor. The rich and powerful were savory—Hadrian decided then they’d always be the first to die.

“This one,” he said with a sagging human in his arms, one dressed in deep shades of heavy robes and dotted with jewelry. “Maker, have this one,” he said, surprising himself by loyally offering the best pick to Azazel and not just wanting it for himself.

“Your slaughter of prey is like delicious sustenance to me, my child,” Azazel said from against a nearby tree, waving his hand before his face to deny the offer. “I’m full just looking at you.”

Hadrian shrugged and took the prey for himself, moving along down the prison headquarters and not discriminating poor from rich anymore, instead taking all within his path. He could tell Azazel was still watching him from some vantage point but he didn’t take the time to find out where and he didn’t mind either, free to roam and pillage as he pleased. It was all going well until he began to feel a bit dizzy, heavy from his intake and not as sharp with his senses as before. Was it possible he was getting drunk?

It then became a challenge to use his full ability to stalk prey, the screams of the humans sounding muffled to him as though he were underwater, and after the next barely successful downing of a human, his head erupted into sharp pains and stabbing sensations. He cried out in shock from the intensity of the discomfort but when a human accidentally crossed his path (under the wrong impression he’d been running  _ from  _ the danger), he couldn’t deny his impulse and reached out for him anyway.

Right before he would have made contact with the human, a strong hand gripped around his wrist, yanking it down to his side while another arm around his collar bones reeled him backward into a strong chest. It was obvious for many reasons it was his maker, and it came as no surprise to him that he was the only being strong enough to control him—much stronger than himself.  

“That’s enough, little one,” Azazel murmured to him, hissing at the wide-eyed human to add the spark to his retreat, holding Hadrian steady as he writhed to get to the human who was getting out of sight and soon out of immediate range. “I said enough,” he repeated, making gentle shushing sounds when Hadrian began to cry in pained frustration.

“He could have recognized me,” Hadrian panted, that now being his main concern if he had to give that man up.

“I have his scent, Hadrian. I’ll get him later,” Azazel assured, rubbing Hadrian’s shivering form to help in any way he could.

“I need more, Azazel—more.”

“There’s a  _ limit _ , Hadrian. There’s a limit to how much you can take at once,” Azazel said, holding a palm over Hadrian’s forehead and adding a bit of pressure to ease the steady ache.

“Why didn’t you—say that before,” Hadrian whined in accusation, giving up his fight to escape and instead falling back into Azazel completely, letting all of his weight go and muscles relax in order to accept his help.

“Because you needed to feel it for yourself to believe me,” Azazel said, kissing Hadrian’s temple when he grumbled in indignation. “And it gets worse than this, child. Worse than pain, an overdose of blood can put you in the way of great harm. It can paralyze you and leave you open to any sort of attacks. I’ll let you feel that once during our training when I can protect you. After that, you’ll understand why you can’t let that happen on your own.”

“Training?” Hadrian asked, twisting around to look up at Azazel’s comforting face. Just seeing him made Hadrian feel secure and at peace. Was this how every one of his kind felt toward their makers?

“Right now, Hadrian, you’re a savage animal. Don’t worry, I expected nothing more, but I’m going to teach you how to be a true predator—a  _ sophisticated _ harbinger of death from the shadows. One must have class in this existence, and you are to be an emperor. You need it even more. Plus, I need to teach you how to fight with skill and expertise should you encounter others like you,” he listed, smiling when Hadrian hummed and nodded to accept the terms. “There’s many things you don’t know yet, so let us find a temporary home and I will teach you everything I know.”

 

~~~

 

Hadrian had been beaten more times than he could count now. It had been at least two or three weeks with Azazel, living together in a small but quaint mountainside cave just overlooking a city of the Gauls, and his fighting training was not going well. Azazel kept telling him it was going wonderfully, but ending up on his back with claws prepped at his throat every time was not his definition of wonderful. 

He had tested out the blood coma as well, a few days into finding their home. Azazel had allowed him to binge on humans endlessly for upwards of an hour to an hour and a half, and by the end of it, he was practically destroyed. He’d been stuck in a state between dimensions of death and actual death, unable to speak or move, and in more pain than he could accurately depict, and it was only after multiple drainings of his blood either through regular cuts or Azazel’s drinking that he came out of the stupor. And Azazel had made him wait for release, too, to _ really _ give him time to sink in what an overdose did to the body. It was a lot. He understood it now, and no, he would not be subjecting himself to that again.

“I might be envious if we were equals, my outstanding work of art,” Azazel praised with that fatherly look he always got around Hadrian, helping him off the ground he’d been pummeled into not moments before.

“How can you even say that to my face after defeating me so quickly,” Hadrian muttered in annoyance, accepting Azazel’s actions as he brushed the dirt from off his body and minimal clothing.

“Because no others would stand as long as you did,” Azazel reminded, having said that many times by this point but happily continuing to do so because he could imagine the disappointment Hadrian must feel inside.

“Prey,” Hadrian said suddenly, his ears and nose filling with the presence of a human walking around the general area of the cave, on some hike he’d never return from.

“Go feed,” Azazel allowed, shooing Hadrian off and taking a seat by the fire he’d made for aesthetic purposes only.

Hadrian walked briskly toward the mouth of the cave, keeping his steps soundless so no echos would reach the human’s weak little ears. Once he fully walked out into the night, finding the boy was no problem. He was around Hadrian’s age, perhaps a year younger, and nice to look at, but all he would be is a life-supplier tonight. That’s all humans were worth. “You there,” he called out to him, grinning when the human whipped around and looked directly into his eyes. Just what he needed. “Come.”

It was always amusing to watch them approach like trained dogs. Azazel called this “the lure”; it was a trained skill that allowed for Hadrian’s kind to string humans along like puppets—make them bend to commands and want nothing more than to please them. It was quite handy when one was lazy and didn’t feel like chasing after all of them.

The boy got up to the side of the rounded cave and stood before Hadrian, who’d taken a seat on a boulder after he’d called him over.

“All the way,” Hadrian said, patting his upper thighs and grinning when the dazed human wasted no time straddling him and waiting for further instruction, their eye contact having not broken once. “What a pretty neck you have,” he complimented, his hand tracing up the milky skin and causing a shudder to ripple through his body. “You wouldn’t mind if I took it,” he said to himself, not expecting much of an answer from the human, but he did get a moan.

He dove slowly after that, having found it was much more beneficial to him to take feedings unhurriedly to get the most out of it. The high for him tended to last longer, it felt better for the human, and more time spent swallowing blood was more time of bliss all around so it was a no-brainer. ‘Sophistication’ really did go a long way.

“Please,” the human whimpered as he was fed on, his hips rolling on their own as Hadrian’s hands tightened on the back of his clothing, both of their breathing growing heavy and labored, since suddenly his lungs needed air again.

He wouldn’t give the human what it wanted, though. He’d never do that. Sometimes he felt like that was the wrong choice, because when their hips chased friction, his body loved the pressure too, so why deny himself? But...it just wasn’t right. He didn’t like the idea, and frankly, he considered himself above it. He’d never deny a human of their right to climax, though. That would be a step too far since he was only going to kill them anyway. He really had become less rabid since being in the caves, hadn’t he?

“Please,” the human squeaked again, pulling Hadrian back into the present and into their act together.

Hadrian released the boy’s neck only for a short moment, using the break to catch his breath and smear the deep red liquid onto his lips. “Come,” he whispered, his fangs finding their points of entry again and sinking back into the soft flesh they’d taken before, the rush of blood returning as his endorphins were given back to the prey. His kind and their source of life had quite a mutually beneficial relationship together, didn’t they? He thought it was just perfect.

The human tensed and shook atop his hips, warmth building between his legs as he came, and Hadrian sped up his drinking, having gotten the knack for timing his kill for when they were still distracted by coming down off their highs. The boy’s breathing slowed significantly as did his heart, and eventually, just like he was merely falling asleep, Hadrian stole every last bit of life he had, letting him slip off the side of his lap into the alder tree leaves that surrounded them.

“Your lure is already so strong for your age—they come running like sheep just as they should, like you’ve handled them for centuries already. Have you still not yet considered having sex with them?” Azazel asked, stood beside the entrance and looking upon the scene with his usual hint of pride. “You children always love doing that with your prey.”

“Not me. It’s below me,” Hadrian answered, standing from the boulder and stretching his arms high over his head toward the looming moon. Has he mentioned yet that sunlight highly disagrees with him? It didn’t hurt, necessarily, but it drained him like nothing else and if out  _ too  _ long, it did have the potential to be very dangerous.

“My little Hadrian,” Azazel sighed, pointing to the chest of the victim to ask for the heart. Hadrian nodded so he walked over, effortlessly grabbing into his chest and ripping his favourite part free to munch on. “Always the setter of social hierarchy.”

Hadrian grumbled and crossed one leg over the other, both their ears picking up the conversation between two humans who were far enough away to be ignored by Hadrian’s ravenous nature, but not far enough that they weren’t heard by his inhuman ears. It didn’t take long to discover they were discussing  _ him _ , speaking news to each other about how Auron had returned to Rome after hearing of Hadrian’s disappearance.

Hadrian coughed and quit breathing even though he needed to in this state, just to amp his ear’s ability. He discovered Auron was set to seize the throne if his disappearance proved to be a permanent one. He learned that Trajan had fallen ill from the stress, and a time limit of both his return and Trajan’s life had been set. If there was any chance to become emperor, he’d have to do it now. “I have to go, Azazel,” he said suddenly, Azazel’s quiet bite of heart pausing before he could finish.

“Certainly,” Azazel agreed since he’d heard the conversation as well, thinking it over and nodding. “You’ve learned well, Hadrian. There was a time during these weeks when you didn’t even know your own name. From the mindless beast you were created as to the tactful killer now, I’d say I’ve taught you everything you need to exist intelligently among humans as you did,” he said, looking Hadrian up and down to assess that just one more time. “But be careful, Hadrian. There are much older and stronger children than you running around out there.”

“I don’t care,” Hadrian said honestly, internally laughing at the very thought of an enemy of his kind—were he to meet one, he would smash them into pieces. “You are the only thing I fear in this world.”

Azazel seemed to love that comment and his lips turned up in a pleased grin, opening his arms and beckoning Hadrian into them. Hadrian obeyed and let his maker envelop him in an embrace, documenting the polarizing effect of this action from some of his others. He’d seen Azazel delicately handle a fragile butterfly in his hands, with eyes full of appreciation and love for the tiny creature, and he’d also seen Azazel mangle human bodies beyond recognition in the passing of an instant, eyes cold pits of black nothingness.

Azazel was an absolutely horrifying existence, and though Hadrian had some amounts of respect for him, it didn’t mean he’d let his natural instinct fly off to nowhere land. He knew very well what Azazel had the potential to do to him if he wanted to, and the fact that he was still somewhat alive sometimes was only the product of Azazel’s decision. He wanted nothing more than to never see him again, but at the same time knew he would miss him time to time. It was an odd blend of emotions.

“Perhaps we shall meet again, my little predator...what a fateful day that will be,” Azazel said mysteriously, like he fully intended for a second meeting to occur but wasn’t willing to talk about that yet. He kissed Hadrian on the top of his head, held him just a bit tighter, then he was gone, even his scent already gone with the wind, leaving Hadrian without even an inkling of which way he’d run off. Fine.

Hadrian had a kingdom to rule anyway.

 

~~~

 

The journey back to Rome had been much quicker than his unintended travels to the Germanic lands of the Gauls, and he drank from every lone prey he found on the way, letting the cloak of night hide his identity from anyone who may recognize him. 

Once he reached the borders of his empire, the attempts to mask himself were cast aside and his speed was slowed to a stroll, and the news of his return had spread to the palace gates of Rome before he had arrived himself.

“Hadrianus!” Marcius gasped as he sprinted down the open market area by the gates, running straight into Hadrian without a thought and holding him as tightly as he could.

Hadrian still had plenty of life within him from his last feeding so his appearance gave nothing away, and he returned the embrace, more chunks of himself flowing back now that he was home. He’d forgotten so much out there with Azazel—his maker hadn’t been lying, at points he  _ had _ forgotten his own name. Being here almost made him feel like none of that had ever happened, but his overworking senses could not endorse that fantasy. He was not the same as he was, and he didn’t want to be anyway. “I have much to tell,” he said, only planning to blame the Gauls for his extended capture anyway but Marcius seemed to need another topic dealt with first.

“Later, Hadrian. Trajan is very ill—they said he won’t last the night,” Marcius said in a rush, quickening his pace alongside Hadrian as they hurried to enter the palace. “And...well…”

“What aren’t you telling me,” Hadrian asked in a non-questioning tone, catching Marcius’s lip bite and side-eye. He was nervous. Nervous about telling him of Auron, evidently. Lucky he already knew or he’d likely explode upon hearing it.

“Auron returned, and he’s been set to take the throne instead,” Marcius said, now having to run to keep up with Hadrian’s pace.

“Where are they?” Hadrian asked, the two bursting through the doors and veering off toward the direction of Trajan’s quarters. “Ah,” he said, understanding they must be there anyway and patting Marcius’s shoulder to hold him back. He would take care of this himself.

“I’ll send word to the governors,” Marcius said, running off in the opposite direction and disappearing from Hadrian’s thoughts entirely.

_ Auron _ , he growled to his mind, really taking the time now to give his brother some thought. Just the concept of him plotting this behind his back was making Hadrian want to murder his twin once and for all. The things he’d done to him. He’d get proof for all of that eventually, but right now, the only thing that mattered was Rome slipping out of his grasp and back into Hadrian’s where it belonged.

His presence caused gasps from the politicians lining the emperor’s hall in early mourning, and some even whispered cheers of joy to each other. Evidently none had wanted Auron to take Hadrian’s place, and even if they hated Hadrian, it made sense they’d take his side given the alternative. 

It was only a few more steps until he’d reach the door and he practically kicked it open when he got there, sweeping into the room and right up to Trajan’s bed, where Auron stood like a vulture on the opposite side, looming over Trajan and just waiting for his last breath.

“Hadrianus,” Trajan grimly croaked, his paper-thin lips turning up in a smile.

Hadrian couldn’t even hear him.

Auron wasn’t a human.

The brothers’ eyes met and they both froze, smelling their species on each other as clear as a cloudless day. It was obvious in every single feature they had besides scent as well—they’d both become monsters. How, Hadrian had no clue, but there was no denying Auron drank the blood of humans in his downtime, too—he had fairly recently, in fact.

Hadrian remembered Azazel talking of just how many children there were out there, the uncountable number of them, and how likely it was that someone he’d met before had probably been one too, and how people from his past could end up becoming like him, but never did he imagine it would turn out to be someone so close to home, and with such odd timing in comparison to himself.

“You...how…” Auron gritted, time standing still as the fire burning between their gazes nearly engulfed Trajan’s bed in flames.

“Surprised, big brother?” Hadrian seethed, keeping his fangs in check so the weakened Trajan and the slaves along the walls would not catch sight of them. “Lord Trajan,” he then addressed because he needed to put Auron aside for a second, bending down and taking his emperor’s hand in both of his. “I have returned.”

“Yes, and you shall take the throne,” Trajan announced just to make it official, ensuring the record-keepers on the couches across the room heard him very clearly. 

Auron’s rage was palpable in the thick air and Hadrian looked up just to watch it unfold, catching his twin’s sudden hiding of his hands, no doubt to conceal the claws that had grown from his nails. His eyes were ablaze with the strongest hatred Hadrian had ever encountered, and a part of him was actually satisfied he’d been the one to cause it.  _ Good. Suffer. _

“If your parents could see you both today,” Trajan said, both brothers freezing from the unexpected comment and glancing down at the withering emperor. “They would cheer in merriment.”

“Yes, it would most certainly shock them to see what we’ve become,” Auron said with an air of light humor, sounding neutral enough to fool anyone who was human and didn’t know him very well.

“Take care of her, boys. Take care of my Rome,” Trajan wheezed, reaching out with both hands toward the twins but saving his eyes for Hadrian only.

Auron, to Hadrian’s surprise, took the hand that was offered and sat with them, and Hadrian smiled down upon Trajan, hopefully giving him comfort in his last moments—judging by his smile, he was. “Go in peace, Trajan. Your people are safe now,” he pledged, catching a lip twitch from Auron in his peripherals but nothing more.

Trajan closed his eyes as if to sleep, but after a heavy minute of struggling breath, he finally let go, all life draining from him and stilling the circulation of blood in his veins. Death was not appealing to Hadrian’s kind. No mouth would ever water at the sight of it.

Hadrian felt just a twinge of sadness; this man had practically been his father all this time since the loss of his own, but there was no time for emotion like that anymore. Not from this perspective and not through these inhuman eyes. He was not Hadrian the boy, or even Hadrian the man—he was Hadrian the monster.

“Trajan of Rome has perished!” the messenger of the room shouted down the halls, silencing the cries of mourning with an ode to Hadrianus. The hall repeated the praise and every man out there ran to spread the news, leaving their surroundings fairly empty save for the slaves in the room.

“Leave us,” Hadrian said to the room of slaves and lingering record-keepers, waiting for them to filter out and leave all the way down the hall before he addressed his older brother. “Confess your crimes to me, you coward. I’m tired of your act,” he hissed, both twins dropping their fangs and letting their true selves emerge to one another, which was still odd to think because there was a lifetime behind them of what ‘true self’ had meant before, but this was the true self now. No denying that.

“Gladly. It was me. I sent the Gauls to Dokos to overtake you—but their orders were to  _ keep you  _ until Trajan lost his life. And here you are. Same as me. How?” he demanded, circling the end of the bed to leave nothing between them should they choose to lunge for the other.

“It doesn’t matter how. I don’t care to know your story either,” he said, his eyes squinting in hurt and anger as Auron’s eyes showed nothing but pure hatred for him. It was already old now. “How could you, Auron? How could you do this?” he asked, his anger giving way to something closer to disappointment. “All because I ‘took your spot’,” he scoffed, amazed Auron had taken things so far over such a selfish and greedy desire for power.

“That _ is _ what you’d see, isn’t it,” Auron sneered, his hands clearly aching to attack him if going by his intermittent twitches.

“What else am I supposed to see!” Hadrian barked, pointing an angry finger at his brother and moving that point toward the door. “Get out of my kingdom,” he commanded, squinting his eyes when Auron didn’t make a move. “Then take me down,” he compromised, opening his arms and inviting an attack to get this over with once and for all.

Auron didn’t even hesitate and flew straight at Hadrian, the two of them colliding like waves on rocky shores and using a lot of different techniques to get at each other’s throats. Hadrian, however, was the better fighter with a more advanced set of skills, and his opening came around much sooner than Auron’s would have. He dove for Auron’s throat with readied fangs, fully intending to rip it out brotherly relationship be damned, but Auron was also quick to admit his defeat.

“Okay!” he snapped, pausing Hadrian’s killing attack before he could administer it and wrangling free of his grip. “Alright.”

“Leave,” Hadrian said once again, his heart slowing as the effects of blood he’d taken last wore down. If he didn’t get something soon...

“Fine...but this isn’t the last of me, little brother,” Auron panted, seeming at his edge as well as they fought to maintain their life.

“I would hope not,” Hadrian said gladly.

“I will destroy  _ everything _ you _ ever _ love,” Auron threatened, his attitude and tone almost sour to the nose with its venom as he spit his ‘endorphins’ out on Hadrian’s room floor, a term Azazel had educated him on.

“Good luck with that,” Hadrian said uncaringly, watching his brother with suspicious eyes as he slowly stalked from the room and exited through the door. Their eyes were pointed as they glared the other down for that last moment, saying a lot of things while speaking no words, and then he truly left, only making Hadrian feel empty with his absence.

Now he had time to think.

The odds of Auron being Hadrian’s species too...the first time he’d seen Auron in a long time and just...there he was. Just like that. Hadrian couldn’t help but think it had been orchestrated by the Gods—it was too coincidental, wasn’t it? Right? He didn’t know, he just knew he didn’t like them sharing the same species.

After just a bit of thinking to himself, Hadrian realized his life had left him already, and he walked over to the mirror on the far wall, groaning at his pale and deathly reflection in distaste. He looked more dead than the corpse of Trajan in his bed, and this would never do if he was meant to join the proceedings of coming into his rightful rule. That was quite the event, and to do it in this condition...no way.

But what else could he do? He decided to retreat to his room, taking all the detours he knew to get there unseen, and once he entered, he shut the door behind him, taking long strides to his bed and collapsing into it. This bed...this bed that had once hidden he and Antinous under the covers. The bed he and his wife had conceived their child on—the child who had never been born. He mourned his son frequently but never more than now.

The realization of exactly what he’d turned into seemed to hit him for the very first time now. How would his past loves react to him now? Wouldn’t they cower in fear? Disgust? It hurt him to think about, and for the first time, he wasn’t all that proud of his number of kills in the Germanic mountainsides. Some of his victims had no doubt been someone else’s Antinous...he knew what losing that person felt like. To think he’d been the cause this time...

But the monster in him didn’t care, and he was more than willing to take its side and share its views. Caring was weakness. Second thoughts were cowardice. Prey was prey now—that’s all he knew. “Sorry you have to see me like this,” he said to the empty bed beneath him, speaking only to the memory of the ones he’d held so dear, ready to let them go forever now that he’d let literally himself die with them. “But I’m not your Hadrian anymore, so it doesn’t count.”

“Hadrian?” a voice came outside his door, accompanied by a small knock upon the wood paneling. It was Marcius, that much was obvious, but Hadrian still couldn’t let himself be seen like this. However...maybe someone needed to be on the inside. Perhaps he needed at least one human he could trust to know what he was now, to help him conceal his identity and assist him with needs he may have. Would Marcius be that human? He decided to find out.

“Enter,” he said against all momentary doubt, allowing Marcius into his quarters and motioning for him to shut the door.

“Your presence is expected in the—”

“I know,” Hadrian said, moving to the couches in the center of his room and tapping the small table that separated them on the side diagonal to him to tell Marcius to sit in the chair there. “I can’t go out there, Marcius,” he said, his head hung low and eyes cast toward the ground so Marcius couldn’t see him before he wanted him to.

“Why not?” Marcius asked, hurrying to his seat and scooting it closer to reach out and touch Hadrian’s forearm, which he pulled away before he could make contact. Ice-cold skin would set off alarms of something being wrong.

“Because I’m...not the same as I used to be,” Hadrian said carefully, rolling his eyes at himself over his awful attempt to begin this discussion. How else could he say it?

“None of us are, but that doesn’t mean—”

“No, Marcius,” he said, bravely lifting his head to put his face on full display and get the shock factor over with.  

Marcius studied his face with wide eyes, blinking every so often as he took in every feature and gulping when Hadrian tactfully showed the points of his fangs.

“I really meant I’m not the same,” Hadrian said, his claws tapping against the table’s surface and drawing Marcius’s gaze to them as well.

“What happened to you, Hadrian?” Marcius asked, slightly afraid but having practically raised Hadrian, it was going to take just a bit more than that to scare him off.

“I came across an existence—that existence made me like itself. End of questions,” he said, watching the gears turn in Marcius’s head. He wasn’t able to say much because he didn’t know much. It had just happened and then that was all there was. Pretty simple, really.

“But I saw you earlier,” Marcius said, trying to reconcile the image he had of Hadrian not an hour ago at the gates with the one before him now.

“I was well fed when you saw me outside,” Hadrian answered, slowly sliding his wrist across the table to be in Marcius’s range. He tapped on his pulse point to let Marcius know that was the reason he was giving him his arm, and Marcius checked it himself, his breath catching when he confirmed the impossible. That there was no pulse to feel. “Without sustenance, I remain in this state of empty death. And as you can see, it’s hard to hide.”

“What, uh...what sustenance do you need?” Marcius inquired, charming as always and already thinking of ways he could help, but Hadrian knew he was in over his head.

“Blood,” Hadrian answered, studying Marcius’s reaction to that but there wasn’t much of one to view. “The blood of humans.”

Marcius seemed deep in thought and he remained that way for quite a while, wringing his hands together out of habit and furrowing his brows to a degree that looked painful to maintain. “What about the prisoners?” he finally asked, meeting Hadrian’s confused eyes and shrugging his shoulders.

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Hadrian asked, leaning ever so slightly toward his mentor.

“I mean...I mean if I brought you the prisoners of the state—criminals who have harmed others, by means of rape or murder, you know, the  _ bad  _ ones—would their blood do you any good?” he clarified, eliciting one lengthy blink of surprise from Hadrian.

“Any blood works,” Hadrian said first, holding up a finger and leaning even closer to the lip-gnawing man. “You would fish prey  _ for me  _ and willingly send them to their death at my hands?” he asked to make sure Marcius knew well what he was getting himself into.

“These would be men that deserve death anyway. I will not help you take the lives of innocent Roman citizens, and I would  _ hope  _ that you wouldn’t want them anyway,” he said with an edge to his words, pleading to Hadrian to confirm that.

Truth be told, Hadrian might not have cared about that before, but now that he thought about it, murdering his own people as their leader was a bit counter-productive. He could end up with an empty empire if he did it that way. “No, I wouldn’t harm my people,” he said, seeing the slight slump of relief in Marcius’s shoulders.

“So criminals and invaders only,” Marcius reaffirmed to tighten the deal, waiting for Hadrian’s sharp nod to mentally set it in stone. “And you need this now?” he asked, wishing he knew how long had passed since he had promised to go retrieve the emperor.

“If you want me making an appearance, it has to be,” Hadrian said, almost apologetically because he knew he was putting Marcius in a difficult position. “Your assistance will not be taken lightly,” he promised, the unsaid offering of future rewards hanging in the air.

“Okay. Don’t worry bout that, Hadrian. Wait here, I’ll be back,” Marcius said, dashing from the room in just a few seconds but clearly slowing as he exited the room to appear casual.

Hadrian sat around for a time he didn’t care to notice pass him by, lost in his thoughts of the events that had led to Azazel and the events from there that had led to now. Auron’s ominous threat of return hung over his head, plus the one about murdering all whom he loved, but neither threat struck fear in him like it might have before—when he had things to lose. As if he would ever love anyone again. Auron’s words were a joke. 

Eventually his door creaked open and Marcius hurried in with a prisoner in shackles, kicking the door closed and walking the man forward into the room. Hadrian stood from his couch and watched as Marcius approached and gave him away without a second thought. 

“Hadrianus,” the prisoner blubbered, seeming overjoyed and terrified at the same time to be in his presence when all he’d had to look at was a stone roof for months upon months.

“Marcius, you’d better leave now,” Hadrian said, taking the confused and overwhelmed prisoner into his arms, but it was merely to hold him in place rather than show affection. “You won’t want to see what—”

“Actually I do want to see,” Marcius said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and trying not to meet Hadrian’s eyes because evidently to him, wanting to stay was an embarrassing request.

“Why?” Hadrian asked.

“So I know you—the real you,” Marcius said, crossing his arms to stand his ground if challenged. “So I know what I’m sending Romans too, prisoners or not.”

“Be my guest,” Hadrian said with only a twinge of annoyance, not all for having a staring audience but not opposed to his reasonings. He led the prisoner to the couch and sat down with him, being extra gentle to sell himself correctly to Marcius, who was watching his every move. “Look at me,” he cooed to the bald man he’d been granted, smiling fangs and all when they met eyes because his fangs wouldn’t even be noticed while his prey was in his lure. “I’m going to set you free—would you like that?” he asked, holding the man’s cheek and touching their foreheads together when he began to cry in joy of Hadrian’s offer.

He gave distracting kisses down the man’s neck and sniffed around for the most opportune spot, choosing the point between his neck and shoulder as usual and licking his fangs as he pulled his lips back to make way. He went in then, the impossibly sharp points of his fangs sinking through the first layer of skin and unleashing the blood for his consumption.

The prisoner gasped and moaned in the pleasure Hadrian was so used to hearing, and he took his sweet time with him, even caressing his back and arms because he knew Marcius was still standing there like an idiot feasting his eyes upon what was before him. “Thank you, Hadrian,” the criminal whimpered, clutching hard onto Hadrian’s robes and perhaps realizing his fate, perhaps not, Hadrian never really knew what they thanked him for exactly. “Thank...you…”

Hadrian pulled off with a gasp as soon as the prisoner’s heart eventually stopped, making sure he didn’t fall unceremoniously and lowering him onto the ground with ease, finally meeting Marcius’s eyes and crossing one leg gracefully over the other, knowing he looked every bit as ‘Hadrian’ as he had all these years of being alive.

“That’s how you kill?” Marcius asked with a gawk, his mouth hanging just a tad open as he grappled with the scene he’d just witnessed.

Hadrian almost laughed but he held it in, not even letting out a smile as he lied plainly and bluntly: “Yes.” He’d been quite more brutal than that, but Marcius didn’t have to know that if he wouldn’t want to know that. Marcius grumbled incoherently and crossed his arms again and Hadrian sighed, standing from his seat and stepping over the deceased prey to address Marcius. “Was that not to your liking?”

“That man murdered his wife for no discernable reason. Leaving behind an eighteen-year-old boy… You could have made it hurt  _ quite a bit  _ more than that,” Marcius huffed, rolling his eyes and begrudgingly accepting the easy and kind death the bad man had met.

Hadrian hadn’t anticipated to, but that comment made him bust out in laughter, perhaps the first laugh that had left his throat since long before his turning, maybe even since before the death of Sabina and Antinous. He hadn’t expected Marcius to vouch for a more painful route, and it almost excited him to get that clearing. “Sure thing, Marcy,” he chuckled, his eyes sheen with a film of tears from his amusement. “Sure, I’ll make it hurt next time.”

“Alright,” Marcius sighed, staring hard at the body on the floor and probably wondering just what to do with it.

“Don’t worry about that,” Hadrian said, knowing the layout of his palace well enough to know he could figure out a way to dispose of the prisoner without anyone finding out what had happened to him. “And Marcius?” he said, Marcius humming to acknowledge him. “Get me the son of that man.”

“Why?” Marcius asked before agreeing, looking away from Hadrian’s eyes after doing so because it was his impulse to question, but Hadrian was the emperor now and what he said went.

Hadrian let it slide. “Because I want him. He will live as my slave from now on. And don’t fret—I will treat my slaves better than any emperor before me. So do not hesitate to give me anyone I ask for, Marcius,” he warned, Marcius nodding submissively and bowing to take on the request. 

“Are you ready for the council now, Hadrianus?” Marcius asked, steering things back to the topic he’d originally found him for.

“Plenty ready,” Hadrian said, a tad excited to haggle with the governors about why he deserved to be emperor and they didn’t deserve to negate that fact. Rome was Hadrian’s, and potentially, it would be forever. He didn’t know what the future might hold, but at least he knew one comforting thing for sure: he’d never lose a loved one again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written the next one at all, but it's outlined, so I'll dip into it very soon. It may not come out as soon as this one did from the last, but I've got you. See? SEE? DO YOU BELIEVE ME YET? Even when it's been a frightfully long time, I will ALWAYS come back. I'm like the cockroach of ao3. 
> 
> Until next time, when the son of the prisoner appears. 
> 
> Who do you think the son is? Hmm? Hmm? HMM????

**Author's Note:**

> A quick guide for vocab you'll see for a while, and YES, not a lot of DOORS were in Rome, I get that. It was all curtains and shit, BUT the crazy elite were known to have doors. This fam is pretty damn elite lol. 
> 
> main points of house- consists of indoor courtyards, gardens, elaborately painted walls.  
> cubicula - bedroom, leading off atrium. wooden beds with slight padding  
> atrium - main room, focal point, contains statue of altar to household gods, Lares. surrounded by high-ceilinged porticoes.  
> impluvium - draining pool (shallow, sunken rectangular portion of atrium) to feed rainwater underground  
> vestibulum - entrance hall, leads into large central hall  
> triclinium - like a dining den with couches and reclining blah (three couches surrounding a table)  
> tablinum - living room or study (used as a passageway)  
> culina - kitchen  
> domus - fancy house  
> insula - poorer house  
> imperial palace - palatine hill  
> tabernae - shops outside facing the street
> 
> Contact me: wubwubnparmaham.tumblr.com


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